Vocal  and  Action -Language 


E.  N.KIRBY 


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THE  LIBRARY 

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THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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VOCAL  AND   ACTION -LANGUAGE 


CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION 


BY 

E.    N.    KIRBY,    A.B. 

SNOW    PKOFESSOR   OF    ELOCUTION    AND   ORATOKV    IN    BOSTON    UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON     MDCCCXCI 
LEE    AND     SHEPARD     PUBLISHERS 

10    MILK    STREET    NEXT    "THE    OLD    SOUTH     MEETING    HOUSE" 

NEW  YORK  CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM 

71S    AND    7.20    BROADWAY 


Copyright, 

•  884> 

By  E.  N.  KIRBY. 


p/v 

PREFACE.  K63lnr 


Many  of  my  pupils  have  repeatedly  requested  me  to  print 
for  reference  the  matter  on  elocution  as  I  have  given  it  in 
class  and  private  instruction.  With  this  in  view,  and  hoping 
to  benefit  professional  speakers  and  others,  I  venture  to  make 
public  the  subject  as  it  has  been  received  from  the  best 
sources  in  this  country,  which  I  am  assured,  upon  the  most 
reliable  evidence,  affords  opportunities  superior  to  those  of 
any  other  in  the  world. 

My  aim  has  been  simply  to  make  a  concise  and  practical 
handbook  on  elocution,  adapted  especially  to  the  needs  of 
those  who  have  had  no  adequate  instruction  or  practice  in  an 
art  which  they  must  use  as  readers,  speakers,  or  teachers. 

I  lay  no  claim  to  original  discovery,  except  in  minor 
instances ;  but  claim  the  advantage  of  having  proven  in 
teaching  the  value  of  the  method  and  practice  herein  pre- 
sented. 

If  the  analysis  and  arrangement  are  valuable,  I  shall  have 
accomplished  something;  for  no  book,  yet  published,  sys- 
tematically presents  the  whole  subject. 

The  authorities  for  the  facts  contained  in  these  pages  are 
specialists  in  their  departments.  This  will  make  the  con- 
tents of  standard  value. 

I  would  gratefully  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  my  former 
teachers,  prominent  among  whom  were  Prof.  L.  B.  Monroe 
and  Dr.  Charles  A.  Guilmette  (now  deceased)  and  Dr.  C.  W. 
Emerson.  I  would  here  offer  thanks  to  Dr.  Martin,  of  Johns 
Hopkins  University,  for  permission  to  use  figures  from  his 
excellent  work  on  "The  Human  Body,"  and  to  Missis. 
Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  publishers,  for  plates  <>f  the  same. 

E.  X.  KIRBY. 
J,,v  „,  ,884.  12.J2543 


TO  TEACHERS  AND  STUDENTS. 


It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  in  no  art,  and  especially 
not  in  the  art  of  expression,  can  a  handbook  fill  the  place  of 
a  living  teacher  ;  but  with  good  book  instruction  the  faithful 
student  •will  make  decided  progress.  I  am  confident  that  this 
instruction  will  also  be  found  a  valuable  supplement  to  any 
teacher's  efforts. 

In  this  subject,  the  student  would  do  well  to  "  prove  all 
things,"  as  far  as  possible,  and  accept  any  statement  only 
because  it  means  so  much  to  him. 

It  is  recommended,  first,  that  two  or  more  combine  in 
classes  for  mutual  help.  Among  other  things,  this  secures 
the  advantage  of  another's  eyes  to  see  and  another's  ears  to 
hear ;  second,  that  the  student  study  the  contents  of  these 
pages,  and  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with  their  princi- 
ples, then  to  practise  faithfully  day  by  day  the  exercises 
prescribed. 

Exercise  in  this  work  should  be  both  general  and  specific, 
and  adapted  to  individual  peculiarities.  Each  student  should 
seek  first  to  know  his  own  peculiar  faults,  and  then  work  with 
the  special  exercise  to  overcome  them. 

In  addition  to  this,  it  is  advisable  to  practise  all  that  brings 
any  development,  and  to  cultivate  expression  with  the  fullest 
use  of  every  agent.  Let  your  work  be  not  only  destructive 
in  overcoming  faults,  but  constructive  in  seeking  perfect 
expression.  The  student  must  work  with  the  ear  as  well  as 
with  the  mouth.  Train  the  ear  to  detect  every  quality  of 
voice  and  inflection,  etc.     The  caution  is  given  not  to  become 


6  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

discouraged  if  not  able  to  accomplish  any  task  after  repeated 
efforts.  You  must  "  learn  to  labor  and  to  wait."  The  time 
element  must  enter  largely  into  the  problem  of  all  culture, 
and  this  is  doubly  true  in  the  art  of  expression.  The  faults 
you  seek  to  eradicate  are  the  growth  of  years,  perhaps  ;  but 
faithful  work  will  accomplish  good  results  in  every  case. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface     3 

To  Teachers  and  Students     5 

List  of  Authorities it 

Introductory. 
Necessity  and  Importance    of  Elocutionary    Training. — 
Use  of    Language   acquired  —  Practical   Necessity  —  Relation 

to  Press 13 

Opinions  of  Distinguished  Men. —  Archbishop  of  York — 
Rev.  Dr.  Hall  —  Dr.  J.  G   Holland  —  Dr.  Kirk—  Hon.  W.  E. 

Dodge 19 

History  of  Elocution 21 

The  System  of  Oratory 24 

Oratory  as  an  Art 25 

Qualifications  of  the  Orator.  — Character  —  Truth  —  Thor- 
ough Knowledge — Store  of  Facts  —  Memory — Tact  —  Good- 
Will  —  Sincerity  —  Logic  —  Rhetoric  —  Imagination  —  Knowl- 
edge of  the  Fine  Arts 26 

Conditions 31 

Reading  and  Speaking 32 


PART    I. 
Vocal  Culture  and  Expression. 


Vocal    Culture. 
CHAPTER   I. 


Physical  Developmknt.  —  For  Vital    Functioning  — Chest  Capa 

city  —  Lrect,  Strong  Bearing — Respiration — Freedom  ...       37 


VOCAL    CULTUKIi    AND    EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Physical  Basis  of  Voice.  —  Sound  —  Musical  Tones  — 
Force  —  Pitch  —  Quality  —  Overtones  —  Physical  Value  of. 
Vowels 40 

CHAPTER    III. 

Respiration  —  Inspiration  —  Expiration  —  Kinds    of    Breathing 

—  Air     breathed  —  Ventilation  —  Forced     Breathing  —  Lung 
Expansion      .    . > 45 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Instrument  of  Voice 5.S 

The    Physiology   and   Anatomy  of  the  Vocal   Apparatus. 

—  Trachea  —  Larynx  —  Lungs  —  Opening    of    Glottis  —  Ten- 
sion of  Vocal  Cords 56 

CHAPTER  V. 
Vocal  Development.  —  Qualities  of  Voice  .........      62 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Orthoepy.  —  Pronunciation  —  Alphabetic  —  Vowels  —  Conso- 
nants— Articulation 72 


Vocal  Expression. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Language.  —  Language  of  Form  —  Attitude  —  Automatic  Move- 
ment—  Gesture — Facial  Expression — Inarticulate  Noises  — 

Inflected  Tones — Articulate  Language  —  Deeds 82 

Articulate  Language.  —  Emphasis 84 

Language    of    Inflected    Tones.  —  Pitch  —  Discrete  —  Con- 
crete —  Slides  —  Rising  —  Semitone  —  Falling  —  Circumflex  85 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Melody  of  Discourse.  —  Discrete  Pitch  —  Cadence    .....      94 
Measure  of  Speech.  —  Accent  —  Measure  —  Quantity     ....      07 


CONTENTS.  g 

Stress.  —  Radical  —  Median  —  Terminal  —  Thorough  —  Intermit- 
tent    99 

Force.  —  Gentle  —  Moderate  —  Loud  —  Very  Loud 101 

Movement.  —  Quick — Moderate  —  Slow  —  Very  Slow     ....  103 
Qualities  of  Voice  in  Use.  —  Pure  Tone  —  Full  Tone  —  Aspi- 
rated—  Guttural 104 

Phrasing  or  Grouping 105 

Climax 106 

STYLr 107 

Imitative  Modulation 108 

Transition 108 

Analysis  of  Expressive  \oice no 


PART     II. 
Action-Language  Culture  and  Expression. 


CHAPTER   I. 


Expression  by  Action.  —  Sir  Charles  Bell's  Investigations  —  Dar- 
win's Principles —  Other  Classifications 115 

Oratorical  Value  of  Action 116 

CHAPTER   IT. 

General  Principles  and  Practice.  —  Preparatory  Exercises  — 

Laws 122 

CHAPTER   III. 

Criteria  for  Practice 126 

Delsarte's  Classification 126 

The  Chest  in  Expression 12b 

CHAPTER   IV. 

The  Limbs  in  Expression.  —  The  Feet  and  Legs  —  The  Hand 

—  The  Arms .     .     .     12N 

CHAPTER    V. 
The  Face  and  Head  in  Expression.  —  The  Eyes  — The  Head,    136 


IO 


VOCAL    CULTURE   AND    EXPRESSION. 


PART      III. 

Expression. 


The  Speaker  before  the  Audience 
Analysis  of  Written  Language.    . 


I.  The  Elder  Brother  . 

II.  The  Cheerful  Locksmith. 

III.  Lochinvar 

IV.  Toussaint  L'Ouverture     . 
V.    Speech 

VI.  Cassius  and  Brutus  .     .    . 

VII.    Language 

VIII.  Bunker  Hill  Monument  . 

IX.     Psalm  xxxix 

X.    John  ix 

XI.  The  Sure  Reward      .    .    . 

XII.  Fulness  of  Love    .    .    .    . 


Monroe  s  Reader 
Charles  Dickens 
Sir  Walter  Scott 
Wendell  Phillips 
Patrick  Henry 
Shakespeare 
Ruskin  .     . 
Webster 
King  David 
St.  John     . 
J.  G.  Wkittier 
Charles  Wesley 


M3 

144 

146 

148 
149 
iS- 
153 
155 
156 

158 

*59 
162 


Selections. 

Conversational.  — Descriptive.  —  Didactic.  —  Narrative.  — 

Forensic. 

XIII.  Colloquial  Powers  of  Dr.  Franklin,  Wirt     ...  165 

XIV.  The  Bell  of  Liberty Headley     .    .  166 

XV.    To  the  Cuckoo Wordsworth   .  169 

XVI.    The  Boston  Massacre Bancroft    .    .  170 

XVII.     Rip  Van  Winkle,  Part  I Truing  ...  173 

XVIII.     Rip  Van  Winkle,  Part  II Irving  ...  176 

XIX.    Tom  Pinch's  Journey  to  London  .    .  Dickens     .    .  180 

XX.    True  Use  of  Wealth Ruskin ...  183 

XXI.     Order  for  a  Picture Alice  Cary     .  187 

XXII.    The  Highland  Gathering      ....  Scott      ...  190 

XXIII.     Paul  Revere's  Ride Longfellow     .  191 

XIV.     Cassius  and  Casca Shakespeare    .  194 

XXV.    Character  of  Charles  the  First     .  Macaulay  .    .  197 


CONTENTS. 


II 


XXVI.  The  Perfect  Orator Sheridan    .     .  198 

XXVII.  Eloquence Webster     .    .  i<>9 

XXVIII.  The  Orator's  Art J.Q.Adams.  199 

XXIX.  The  First  American  Congress      .  J.  Maxcy  .     .  200 

XXX.  Hamlet  to  the  Players    ....  Shakespeare   .  202 

XXXI.  Othello's  Defence Shakespeare    .  203 


Forensic.  —  Sermonic  — Oratoric.  —  Emotional. 

XXXII.  Universality  of  Conscience      .    .  Chalmers  . 

XXXIII.  The  Battle  of   Life S.  Olin  .    . 

XXXIV.  No  National  Greatness  without 

Morality Channing  . 

XXXV.  Await  the  Issue Carly'.e  .    . 

XXXVI.  The  Miracles  of  Nature.    .     .    .  Carlyle  .    . 

XXXVII.  True  Grandeur  of  Nations      .     .  Sumner     . 

XXXVIII.  Cicero  against  Catiline  ....  Cicero    .    . 

XXXIX.  Henry  V.  to  his  Troops   ....  Shakespeare 

XL.  National  Bankruptcy Mirabeau   . 

XLI.  Disunion  and  War  inseperable    .  Clay  .    .     . 

XLII.  Preservation  of  the  Union      .     .  Webster 

XLIII.  Duty  of  America Webster     . 

XLIV.  Treatment  of  American  Colon  ins,  Chatham   . 

XLV.  Hyder  Ali's  Revenge Burke    .     . 

XLVI.  Havelock's  Highlanders  ....  Brock   .    . 

XLVII.  King  Henry's  Rebuke Shakespeare 

XLVIII.  Herye  RlEL  Browning. 


205 
206 

207 
209 
210 

212 
212 


214 

2I5 
216 
217 
219 
220 
222 
223 
22 1 
226 


LIST  OF  AUTHORITIES. 


The  following  are  some  of  the  authorities  used  in  this  book:  — 

Alford,  Dean  Henry "Queen's  English." 

Alger,  Rev.  Wm.  R.     .     .     .    "Dramatic  Art  "  (in  "Life  of  Forrest  ") 

Austin,  Gilbert "  Chironomea." 

Barber,  Dr.  Jonathan "  Grammar  of  Elocution.*' 

Bell,  AM "Principles  of  Elocution." 

Bell,  Sir  Charles "  Anatomy  of  Expression." 

Bell,  Sir  Charles "  The  Hand." 

Brown  and  Behnke "Voice  Song  and  Speech." 

Catlin,  George "  Shut  your  Mouth." 

Darwin,  Chas.  .     .     .     "  Expression  of  Emotion  in  Man  and  Animals." 
Delaumosne,   M.    L'Abbe.      "  Delsarte's    Expressive    Man."      (Trans. 

by  F.  Shaw.) 

Guttman,  Oskar "  Vocal  Gymnastics." 

Holmes,  Gordon "Physiology  and  Hygiene  of  the  Voice." 

Helmholtz   .     .     .     .  "  Sensation  of  Tone."     (Trans,  by  Alex.  J.  Ellis) 

Jebb,  John "  Attic  Orators." 

Legouve,  Earnest    .    .     "  Art  of  Reading."     (Trans,  by  Edwd.  Roth.) 

Martin,  H.  Newell "The  Human  Body." 

Monroe,  L.  B "Vocal  Gymnastics  "  and  "Reader." 

Plumptre,  Charles  J.      .     .     , "  Lectures  on  Elocution." 

Quintilian "Institutes  of  Oratory." 

Rush,  Dr.  James "  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Voice." 

Tyndall,  John "  On  Sound." 

White,  R.  G "  Words  and  their  Uses.'' 

i 


INTRODUCTION. 


i.  —  Necessity  and  Importance  of  Elocutionary 

Training. 

Although  the  subject  of  elocution  is  slowly  assuming  a 
place  of  importance  in  the  country,  there  is  still  a  great  deal 
of  misapprehension  among  people,  otherwise  intelligent,  as 
to  the  nature  and  utility  of  the  study. 

The  objections  urged  are  usually  brief  and  stereotyped.  I 
hope  an  answer  to  them  may  be  found  in  the  following  dis- 
cussion. 

(i.)  The  first  argument  for  the  study  is  found  in  the  fact  that 
the  use  of  language  and  speech  is  acquired.  However  the  race 
may  have  come  by  the  power  of  language,  certainly  each  one 
must  acquire  its  use.  The  simplest  forms  of  speech  are 
learned  in  infancy.  The  person  born  deaf,  not  being  im- 
pressible by  the  usual  methods,  remains  destitute  of  the 
faculty  of  speech  until  unusual  means  are  employed  ;  then 
even  the  deaf  learn  language,  and  the  dumb  are  made  to 
speak.*  The  models  we  imitate  are  not  always  perfect  ones  ; 
therefore  faulty  pronunciations,  inflections,  even  bad  qualities 
of  voice,  and  other  imperfections  are  acquired.  Leaving 
these  beginnings,  man  is  conscious  of  thought,  emotions,  and 
affections,  which  he  would  express  to  others  to  whom  he  is 
related.  The  more  refined  the  thought  and  delicate  the 
emotion,  the  more  difficult  the  expression,  and  he  finds  at  last 
that  language  is  poverty-stricken,  in  fact,  sometimes  a  hinder- 
ance,  to  convey  the  burden  of  thought  and  heart. 

Bi  n'-  "  Visit..].  '  i'..r  deaf-mutes. 


14  VOCAL    CULTURE    ANI>   EXPRESSION. 

A  masterly  use  of  written  language  requires  special  study 
and  constant  painstaking.  Comparatively  few  attain  to  per- 
fection in  the  art ;  fewer  still  become  skilful  in  speech,  for 
the  artist  must  not  only  be  thoroughly  proficient  in  the  literal 
forms,  but  in  addition  must  possess  a  body  so  disciplined  and 
a  nervous  system  so  attuned,  that  the  organs  of  speech  may 
become  the  ready  vehicles  to  express  that  which  has  appeared 
in  the  consciousness. 

Those  indifferent  to  the  study  frequently  indulge  in  the 
trite  saying,  "The  orator  is  born.'"  Fine  musical  genius  is  a 
gift  of  birth,  but  the  musician  does  not  fail  to  practise  on  his 
instrument.  The  speaker's  voice  is  infinitely  more  complex 
and  wonderful  than  any  instrument  made  by  man.  Some 
men  are  happily  endowed  by  nature  for  the  exercise  of 
oratory,  so  are  others  for  surgery,  but  the  student  of  the  latter 
does  not  neglect  anatomy  or  the  skilful  use  of  his  instru- 
ments. 

Many  who  would  discourage  technical  study  and  practice  in 
the  art,  are  yet  very  liberal  in  prescribing  their  cure-all,  "  Be 
natural !  "  To  follow  intelligently  this  advice  would  be  quite 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  without  particular  application.  We 
would  be  first  led  to  inquire  what  is  meant  by  "natural."  It 
is  natural  for  some  men  to  talk  through  the  nose,  for  others 
to  froth  and  pound,  for  others  to  indulge  in  a  tone  of  sepul- 
chral monotony,  reminding  us  of  the  phonograph.  I  hold  it 
to  be  poor  advice  to  recommend  such  to  be  "  natural."  If 
"  natural  "  means  normal,  then  the  instruction,  be  normal, 
has  a  meaning.  Normal  expression  would  say,  "  Do  not 
speak  through  the  nose  ;  for  physiologists  have  agreed,  and 
vocal  teachers  have  insisted,  that  the  nose  is  not  an  organ  of 
speech,  but  was  made  to  smell  with."  Normal  expression 
would  recommend  the  speaker  to  open  his  mouth ;  in  short, 
to  avoid  all  injurious  and  also  all  ineffective  habits. 

As  the  skilful  use  of  language  is  not  a  matter  of  intuition 
but    must   be   acquired,  why  not  correct  the  faults  hitherto 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

learned,  and  then  systematically  study  to  develop  and  disci- 
pline the  organs  and  faculties  of  speech,  instead  of  blindly 
using  this  wonderful  power  ? 

(2.)  The  second  argument  for  the  value  of  the  study  is  that  of 
practical  necessity.  Some  have  looked  upon  the  practice  of 
oratory  as  a  luxury  and  not  as  a  necessity;  and  upon  its  ex- 
cellences as  adornments  and  not  as  indispensables.  The  art 
does  not  contemplate  the  effort  to  pass  off  nothing  for  some- 
thing, but  to  pass  off  something  for  just  what  it  is  worth.  It 
aims  at  an  easy  and  effective  delivery,  permitting  nothing  un- 
necessary. 

The  action  of  many  speakers,  viewed  from  the  standpoint 
of  utility,  is  simply  ridiculous.  The  thoughtful  student  sits 
and  asks,  "  Now  what  is  the  use  of  that  senseless  monotony  ? 
What  is  the  use  of  whining  and  using  that  cant  tone  ?  " 
Some  speakers  are  as  lifeless  as  skeletons  and  as  cold  as 
statues.  They  must  be  aroused.  Others  are  as  extravagant 
as  clowns.  They  must  be  taught  self-control.  Very  fre- 
quently we  have  heard  the  expression,  "  It  tires  me  to  hear 

Mr.  ,  he  labors  so  hard."     I  know  of  a  case  where  an 

official  member  of  a  church,  in  full  sympathy  with  his  pastor, 
was  compelled  to  attend  service  elsewhere,  because  the  pain- 
ful use  of  the  preacher's  voice  so  affected  him.  To  correct 
all  extravagances,  all  mannerisms  of  action,  all  vicious  habits 
of  voice,  is  the  first  thing  elocution  sets  itself  about. 

The  advantage  of  those  who  have  qualified  themselves  as 
speakers  over  thr.se  who  have  not  is  a  practical  proof  of  the 
utility  of  the  art.  Some  speakers,  perhaps  without  special 
attention  to  the  subject,  speak  well  and  have  eminent  suc- 
cess ;  but  certainly  those  who  have  not  such  natural  abilities 
must  not  compare  their  chances  for  success  with  such  unu- 
sual types.  I  once  overheard  an  intelligent  and  aged  layman 
discussing  tin-  subject  with  a  young  theological  student.  He 
took  the  ministers  of  the  city,  of  all  denominations,  one  by 
one;    in    every   instance    those    who    had    the    best    delivery 


l6  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

secured  the  largest  audiences  and  did  more  effective  work, 
though  no  better  scholars  than  the  others.  Said  he,  "  The 
question  is  often  raised,  '  How  shall  we  get  people  into  the 
churches  ? '  In  my  opinion  one  answer  is,  "  Have  better 
speakers  in  the  pulpit." 

When  any  one  distinguishes  himself  in  any  particular,  we 
naturally  seek  to  know  by  what  means  he  achieved  his  advan- 
tage, and  esteem  the  practice  of  such  lives  valuable  in  rela- 
tion to  their  success.  We  find  that  those  who  have 
distinguished  themselves  as  orators  have  been  long,  patient, 
and  in  some  instances  painful  toilers  at  their  art.  Public  ad- 
dress reached  its  highest  perfection  in  Greece.  Demosthe- 
nes is  looked  upon  as  the  prince  of  orators.  Plutarch  says 
of  him,  "When  he  first  addressed  himself  to  the  people,  he 
met  with  great  discouragements  and  was  derided  for  his  strange 
and  uncouth  manner.  Besides,  he  had  a  weakness  in  his 
voice,  a  perplexed  and  indistinct  utterance,  and  a  shortness 
of  breath,  which,  by  breaking  and  disjointing  his  sentences, 
much  obscured  the  sense  and  meaning  of  what  he  spoke.  In 
one  of  his  efforts,  at  length  disheartened,  he  forsook  the  as- 
sembly. Eunomous,  an  old  man,  upbraided  him  for  his  lack 
of  courage  against  the  popular  outcry,  and  for  not  fitting  his 
body  for  action,  but  allowing  it  to  languish  through  mere  sloth 
and  negligence." 

Another  time,  when  the  assembly  refused  to  hear  him, 
going  home,  Satyrus,  the  actor,  being  his  familiar  friend,  fol- 
lowed him.  Demosthenes  complained  that  drunkards  and 
mariners  and  illiterate  fellows  were  heard  in  the  hustings, 
while  he  was  dispraised. 

"  You  say  true,  Demosthenes  ;  repeat  to  me  some  passage 
out  of  Euripides  or  Sophocles."  Satyrus,  taking  it  after  him, 
gave  the  passage  with  such  new  form  that  to  Demosthenes  it 
seemed  like  quite  another  thing. 

"  Hereupon  he  built  himself  a  place  for  study  underground, 
and  shaved  one  side  of  his  head  that  he  might  not  go  abroad." 


INTRODUCTION.  \J 

The  younger  Pitt,  for  some  time  a  leader  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  orators  of 
Great  Britain,  was  faithfully  trained  by  his  father  from  infancy 
for  a  parliamentary  orator. 

Whitefield,  the  prince  of  pulpit  orators,  is  said  to  have 
taken  lessons  of  Garrick,  the  actor. 

The  consummate  oratory  of  Henry  Clay  is  a  fair  type  of 
the  best  in  American  forensic  eloquence.  To  a  graduating 
class  of  law  students  he  said,  "  I  owe  my  success  to  one 
single  fact,  namely,  that  at  an  early  age  I  commenced  and 
continued  for  some  years  the  practice  of  daily  reading  and 
speaking  the  contents  of  some  book.  It  is  to  the  early 
practice  of  this  art  of  all  arts  that  I  am  indebted  for  the 
primary  and  leading  impulses  that  stimulated  my  progress 
and  moulded  my  destiny." 

Beecher,  the  representative  of  American  pulpit  oratory, 
drilled  three  years  under  a  skilled  teacher,  and  continued  it 
later  in  the  theological  seminary.  He  relates  that  he  used 
to  make  the  woods  ring  practising  his  declamations. 

Oratory  was  the  ambition  of  Wendell  Phillips,  the  prince 
of  American  orators,  from  his  youth,  and  was  indeed  the 
study  and  practice  of  his  whole  life. 

We  have  selected  the  above  instances  from  among  the  rep- 
resentatives of  their  time.  Doubtless  most  of  the  distin- 
guished orators  have  been  richly  endowed  by  nature,  but  to 
this  they  have  added  diligent  practice.  It  is  noticeable  that 
generally  those  who  object  most  strongly  to  the  cultivation  of 
the  art  have  the  greater   natural  disqualifications,   and  yet 

time  the  responsibilities  of  professional  speaking.  They 
may  say  with  Antony,  and  more  truthfully  than  he,  "  I  am  no 

itor";  but  the  fact  that  they  undertake  professionally  to 
address  audiences  is  an  assumption  of  the  office  of  orator)-, 
and  the  audience  lias  a  right  to  expect  a  measure  of  ability. 

(3. )     Finally,  the  necessity  of  cultivating  oratory  is  found  in  its 
relation  to  the  press.     As  the  personality  of  the  man  can  never 
a 


18  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

be  printed,  as  the  magical  influence  of  voice  and  action  can 
never  be  put  upon  the  printed  page,  as  the  flashing  eye,  the 
energy,  the  life  of  the  speaker  can  never  be  shown  upon 
paper,  therefore  must  speech  always  remain  superior  to  the 
press. 

Some  people  talk  about  the  press  usurping  the  orator's 
place,  as  though  the  two  were  rivals.  Each  has  a  peculiar 
mission  of  its  own.  Neither  renders  the  other  unnecessary, 
indeed,  I  look  upon  the  press  as  a  valuable  factor  in  creating 
a  demand  for  better  platform  and  pulpit  oratory.  The  speak- 
ing world  has  yet  to  awaken  more  fully  to  the  fact  that  the 
press  is  furnishing  matter  abundantly  in  the  letter.  The 
orator  can  never  successfully  cope  with  the  press  in  merely 
furnishing  facts.  What  the  orator  wants  in  addition  to,  and 
as  a  complement  of  the  letter,  is  "  the  spirit  that  makes 
alive."  Well  may  the  orator  adopt  Christ's  proclamation, 
"  I  am  come  that  ye  might  have  life,  and  that  ye  might  have 
it  more  abundantly." 

Wendell  Phillips  was  called  scores  of  times  to  deliver  his 
lecture  on  the  "  Lost  Arts  "  after  it  had  been  published. 

The  minister,  unskilled  in  oratory,  delivering  his  sermons 
with  his  nose  in  his  manuscript,  or  in  a  dull,  uninteresting 
way,  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  press  has  furnished,  and  is 
still  furnishing  more  largely,  sermons  in  the  literal  form,  supe- 
rior to  the  average  efforts  of  even  strong  preachers.  More 
than  one  has  been  heard  to  say,  "  I  can  read  sermons  at 
home,"  "  I  would  rather  read  at  home  than  to  hear  Rev.  Mr. 
Dull."  Then  must  the  orator  call  in  the  full  resources  of  his 
art,  and  express  the  finer  shades  of  thought  and  sentiment, 
and  give  more  fully  the  truth  as  he  has  it  infleshed  in  himself. 
He  must  make  it  easier  and  pleasanter  for  the  average  lis- 
tener to  hear  the  truth  than  to  read  it. 

To  allay  any  fears  as  to  the  claims  of  elocutionary  study, 
we  wish  to  say  that  no  amount  of  diligence  will  accomplish 
natural  impossibilities.     "  No  amount  of  cultivation  will  make 


INTRODUCTION.  1 9 

a  rose  of  a  cabbage  ;  but  it  will  make  a  better  cabbage." 
Xone  of  our  powers  are  more  susceptible  of  cultivation  than 
those  of  the  organs  of  expression.  Every  speaker's  powers, 
such  as  they  are,  should  be  faithfully  and  conscientiously 
improved,  though  they  may  never  measure  with  those  of  a 
Pitt  or  a  Whitefield. 

I  hope  a  fuller  plea  for  the  study  may  be  found  in  the 
system  presented. 

2.  —  Opinions  of  Distinguished  Men. 

The  Archbishop  of  York,  speaking  before  King's  College 
evening  classes,  said,  "  In  this  country  and  in  this  age,  almost 
every  great  religious,  political,  and  social  movement  is  effected 
bv  the  agency  of  public  speaking,  and  the  advantages  of 
being  well  versed  in  the  art,  as  well  as  in  that  of  public  read- 
ing, are  every  clay  becoming  more  apparent." 

Rev.  Dr.  Hall,  of  New  York,  says,  "  There  is  one  accom- 
plishment in  particular  which  I  would  earnestly  recommend 
to  you  :  cultivate  assiduously  the  ability  to  rend  well.  I  stop 
to  particularize  this,  because  it  is  a  thing  so  very  much  neg- 
lected, and  because  it  is  such  an  elegant  and  charming  accom- 
plishment. Where  one  person  is  really  interested  by  music, 
twenty  are  pleased  by  good  reading.  Where  one  person  is 
capable  of  becoming  a  skilful  musician,  twenty  may  become 
1  readers.  Where  there  is  one  occasion  suitable  for  the 
exercise  of  musical  talent,  there  are  twenty  for  that  of  good 
reading. 

'•  What  a  fascination  there  is  in  really  good  reading  !  What 
a  power  it  gives  one  !  In  the  hospital,  in  the  chamber  of  the 
invalid,  in  the  nursery,  in  the  domestic  and  in  the  social  cir- 
cle, among  chosen  friends  and  companions,  how  it  enables 
you  to  administer  to  the  amusement,  the  comfort,  the  pleas- 
ure, of  dear  ones,  as  no  other  accomplishment  can!  No 
instrument  of  man's  devising  can  reach  the  heart  as  does  that 


20  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

most  wonderful  instrument,  the  human  voice.  It  is  God's 
special  gift  to  his  chosen  creatures.  Fold  it  not  away  in  a 
napkin. 

"  Did  you  ever  notice  what  life  and  power  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures have  when  well  read  ?  Have  you  ever  heard  of  the 
wonderful  effects  produced  by  Elizabeth  Fry  on  the  criminals 
of  Newgate  by  simply  reading  to  them  the  parable  of  The  Prod- 
igal Son  ?  Princes  and  peers  of  the  realm,  it  is  said,  counted 
it  a  privilege  to  stand  in  the  dismal  corridors,  among  felons 
and  murderers,  merely  to  share  with  them  the  privilege  of 
witnessing  the  marvellous  pathos  which  genius,  taste,  and 
culture  could  infuse  into  that  simple  story." 

Dr.  Holland  says,  "  When  a  minister  goes  before  an  audi- 
ence, it  is  reasonable  to  ask  and  expect  that  he  shall  be 
accomplished  in  the  arts  of  expression,  that  he  shall  be  a 
good  writer  and  speaker.  It  makes  little  difference  that  he 
knows  more  than  his  audience,  is  better  than  his  audience, 
has  the  true  matter  in  him,  if  the  art  by  which  he  conveys 
his  thought  is  shabby.  There  are  plenty  of  men  who  can 
develop  the  voice,  and  so  instruct  in  the  arts  of  oratory 
that  no  man  need  go  into  the  pulpit  unaccompanied  by 
the  power  to  impress  upon  the  people  all  of  the  wisdom  that 
he  carries."  He  also  says,  "  Multitudes  of  young  men  are 
poured  out  upon  the  country,  year  after  year,  to  get  their  living 
by  public  speech,  who  cannot  even  read  well.  The  art  of  public 
speech  has  been  shamefully  neglected  in  all  our  higher  training 
schools.  It  has  been  held  subordinate  to  everything  else, 
when  it  is  of  prime  importance.  I  believe  more  attention  is 
now  paid  to  the  matter  than  formerly.  The  colleges  are 
training  their  students  better,  and  there  is  no  danger  that  too 
much  attention  will  be  devoted  to  it.  The  only  danger  is, 
that  the  great  majority  will  learn  too  late  that  the  art  of  oratory 
demands  as  much  study  as  any  other  of  the  higher  arts  ;  and 
without  it,  they  must  flounder  along  through  life  practically 
shorn  of  half  the  power  that  is  in  them,  and  shut  out  from  a 
large  success." 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

The  Hon.  W.  E.  Dodge,  in  a  public  address,  said  that  he 
had  for  years  watched  young  ministers,  and  had  been  "  dis- 
tressed to  see  in  how  many  instances  they  have  failed  in  this 
respect,  being  unable  to  make  available  the  knowledge  they 
had  acquired  by  years  of  careful  study.  They  had  no  power 
of  voice,  or  style  of  delivery  to  make  an  impression  on  any 
audience,  and  for  lack  of  this  never  attain  any  considerable 
success." 

3.  —  History  ok  Elocution. 

If  we  may  be  permitted  to  speak  of  an  eloquent  monument, 
a  speaking  picture  or  statue,  if  it  is  at  all  true  that  "  action 
speaks  louder  than  words,"  then  any  means  that  expresses  the 
products  of  heart  and  mind  is  eloquence.  Then  God  is  the 
primal  orator,  for  in  the  beginning  "  God  said,  Let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light."  He  spake  and  "  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  were  created,  the  sea  and  all  that  in  them 
is." 

Hebrew  history  is  not  without  reference  to  the  art  of 
elocution,  for  Moses  seeks  to  excuse  himself  from  appearing 
before  Pharaoh  by  saying,  "  O  my  Lord  !  I  am  not  eloquent ; 
but  I  am  slow  of  speech  and  of  a  slow  tongue."  At  hist 
Aaron  is  promised  as  a  mouth-piece,  and  they  enter  upon  the 
work  of  delivering  their  people. 

That  the  Egyptians  knew  the  power  of  persuasive  speech 
may  be  inferred  from  the  practice  of  their  courts  of  justice. 
The  plaintiff  and  defendant  wrote  their  statement  and  replies 
for  the  court,  and  the  documents  were  submitted  to  the  bench 
of  thirty  judges,  who  were  presided  over  by  an  arch-judge. 
This  method  was  adopted,  it  seems,  because  it  was  thought 
the  arts  of  oratory  cast  a  veil  over  the  truth.  Holmes  says, 
"  Schliemann's  archaeological  labors  at  Mycena:  and  Tyrius 
proved  beyond  dispute  that  Egypt  was  a  fruitful  source  of 
knowledge  ol  every  kind  t  i  the  Greeks.  The  Creek  Hermes, 
'Interpreter,'    was   considered    identical   with    the   Egyptian 


22         VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

Thoth,  who  was  looked  upon  as  the  god  of  skilful  speech  or 
eloquence."* 

As  no  previous  history  records  the  cultivation  of  oratory  as 
an  art,  Greece  may  be  called  its  birthplace  and  home.  Here 
it  rose  to  its  highest  perfection  ;  from  here  its  fame  has  spread 
in  all  the  earth,  till  to-day  the  names  of  Aristotle,  Demos- 
thenes, Pericles,  are  as  familiar  as  the  names  of  the  leading 
statesmen  of  the  present  time.  Notwithstanding  their  limited 
knowledge  of  the  physics  and  physiology  of  the  subjects, 
their  treatises  upon  the  art  are  valuable  in  many  particulars. 
Plato's  conception  of  sound  and  hearing  is  fanciful  :  "  We 
may  certainly  conclude  that  voice  (sound)  is  a  shock  trans- 
mitted through  the  ears  to  the  soul  by  the  air,  the  brain,  and 
the  blood,  and  that  the  motion  thereof,  which  begins  in  the 
head  and  ends  in  the  region  of  the  liver,  is  hearing.  When 
this  motion  is  swift,  the  sound  is  acute  ;  when  slow,  grave. 
If  the  motion  is  regular,  the  sound  is  even  and  smooth  ;  if  the 
opposite,  harsh.  A  great  motion  gives  a  loud  sound,  the 
opposite  a  faint  one."  | 

Aristotle  (384  B.  C.)  had  a  more  perfect  conception  of  the 
organs  of  voice.  He  states  the  larynx  emits  vowel  sounds ; 
the  teeth  and  lips,  consonants.  His  treatise  is  elaborate. 
The  different  parts  of  the  art  were  assigned  to  especial 
teachers,  and  prescribed  physical  and  vocal  practice  for 
development  of  body  and  voice.  They  gave  attention  to  the 
hygiene  of  the  voice,  and  established  public  contests  in 
declamation. 

The  genius  of  their  free  institutions,  their  taste  for  art, 
fostered  the  cultivation  of  this  art  of  arts ;  besides,  the  high- 
est places  in  the  nation  were  possible  only  to  eloquence.  So 
everything  conspired  to  make  a  race  of  orators. 

*  Gordon  Holmes,  L.  R.  C.  P.,  "  Vocal  Physiology  and  Hygiene  of  the 
Voice." 

f  Holmes,  "  Vocal  Physiology." 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

Rome  borrowed  her  eloquence,  her  methods  of  cultivating 
it,  from  Greece,  as  she  did  her  other  arts  and  learning,  till 
"  victorious  Rome  was  herself  subdued  by  the  arts  of  Greece." 

Republican  Rome  was  well  adapted  to  nurture  oratory. 
Their  patience  and  attention  to  minute  particulars  are  surpris- 
ing to  us  of  this  age  of  hurry.  Quintilian's  "  Institutes  of 
Oratory  "  is  a  very  elaborate  treatise  upon  the  art.  At  last 
oratory  was  abused  ;  the  niceties  of  the  art  became  fantastic, 
and  finally  declined  with  the  Empire. 

Then  the  Christian  church  became  the  custodian  of  the 
art,  and  preserved  and  cultivated  oratory.  Chrysostom,  the 
"  golden  mouth  "  of  the  fourth  century,  is  familiarly  known 
as  the  most  distinguished  orator  of  the  early  church  fathers. 

After  the  darkness  of  the  early  Middle  Ages,  the  revival  of 
oratory  began  in  Italy  after  the  twelfth  century,  continuing  to 
the  present  civilization.  Crolius  preceded  Bossuet  and  Mas- 
sillon  of  France  by  nearly  a  century. 

Our  attention  is  next  attracted  to  the  famous  orators  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  then  to  the  distinguished  examples 
of  our  earlier  civilization. 

It  cannot  be  said,  however,  that  oratory  has  been  generally 
or  systematically  cultivated  in  modern  time.  Professional 
speakers  who  have  given  attention  to  it  are  in  the  minority. 
This  neglect  is  partially  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that,  after 
the  revival  of  letters,  the  world  was  busy  acquiring  knowl- 
edge, and  then  the  art  of  printing  was  a  convenient  agent  in 
discussion  and  in  the  dissemination  of  knowledge. 

We  have  not  felt  the  necessity  of  cultivating  the  art ;  we 
have  waited  for  the  leisure  to  attend  to  it  as  an  accomplish- 
ment. Logically  and  historically,  facts  or  knowledge  must 
precede  their  use.  Relatively  we  have  the  knowledge.  It 
has  been  increased  and  disseminated,  till  now  it  seems  to  me 
oratory  will  have  a  chance,  in  its  legitimate  field,  of  making 
such  skilful  use  of  the  facts  that  they  shall  be  adapted  to 
persuade.     This  latter  function  is  the  chief  end  of  oratory. 


24  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

Treatises  on  the  art  have  appeared  from  time  to  time,  some 
having  special  value,  but  most  of  them  touching  only  one 
phase  of  the  subject  and  none  possessing  the  merit  of  a  com- 
plete and  practical  discussion. 

The  subject,  as  presented  by  Delsarte,  so  far  as  our  knowl- 
edge will  permit  us  to  judge,  seems  to  have  been  a  thorough 
discussion  of  the  subject  according  to  the  scientific  method. 

As  it  comes  to  us  through  his  pupils,  it  is  fragmentary  and 
not  unfrequently  mystical.  But  for  all  these  drawbacks,  there 
is  much  in  the  analysis  that  is  practical  as  well  as  suggestive. 

For  years  the  teaching  of  oratory  has  been  left  quite  gen- 
erally in  the  hands  of  charlatans  and  quacks.  As  a  rule  the 
responsibility  of  training  in  oratory  has  been  assumed  by 
those  who  had  a  measure  of  natural  ability  as  readers  or 
speakers,  and  have  therefore  presumed  they  could  teach, 
though  ignorant,  and  lacking  in  every  qualification  of  the 
teacher.  Many  speakers  and  readers,  unable  to  find  other 
help,  have  gone  to  actors  for  instruction.  That  an  artist  is  a 
great  actor  is  no  assurance  that  he  is  a  good  teacher. 

A  better  class  of  teachers  are  now  entering  the  field. 
Long  neglect,  producing  its  race  of  incompetent  speakers, 
seems  about  to  make  a  favorable  reaction. 

These  facts,  with  the  additional  one  that  leading  colleges 
and  universities  and  men  in  professions  are  yearly  giving 
increased  attention  to  the  subject,  lead  us  to  think  that  we 
are  on  the  eve  of  a  revival  that  shall  make  the  cultivation  of 
the  art  necessary  and  general. 

4.  —  The  System  of  Oratory. 

Systems  of  oratory  have  been  distinguished  from  one  an- 
other, and  the  respective  merits  of  each  extolled,  as  though 
systems  of  oratory  were  a  matter  of  invention  and  capable  of 
indefinite  multiplication.  No  wonder  that  laymen  have  been 
suspicious,  and  regarded  systems  of  oratory  as  collections  of 
tricks,  or,  at  best,  capable  only  of  making  unskilled  mechanics. 


INTRODUCTION.  2$ 

Whatever  may  be  said  as  to  the  excellence  of  any  classifi- 
cation or  arrangement,  it  should  be  distinctly  understood  that 
the  true  system  of  oratory  is  not  the  result  of  inventive  genius. 
It  does  not  depend  upon  the  caprice  of  individuals. 

The  fundamental  principles  of  expression  exist  naturally, 
and  may  be  discovered  and  classified.  According  to  a  law  in 
expression,  the  falling  inflection  asserts  ;  the  assertion  may  be 
of  will,  of  knowledge,  of  authority.  The  rising  inflection 
appeals ;  the  appeal  may  be  to  another's  will  or  knowledge. 

The  quality  of  voice  indicates  the  character  of  emotion  or 
quality  of  things,  as  in  secrecy  or  fear  the  voice  naturally 
taking  the  aspirated  quality.  The  character  of  an  event. 
whether  important  or  trivial,  is  suggested  by  the  great  or 
small  quality  of  voice.  In  attitude,  conscious  strength 
assumes  weak  positions,  as  in  the  case  of  the  athlete, 
while  conscious  weakness  assumes  strong  positions,  as  in 
the  case  of  children  and  aged  people,  —  putting  their  feet 
far  apart  for  a  wide  base.  These  principles  must  form  the 
normal  standard  to  which  all  forms  of  expression  are  to  be 
referred. 

That  which  appears  in  the  consciousness  is  thought, 
emotion,  will,  —  spiritual  products.  They  must  be  material- 
ized before  they  can  be  communicated  to  others.  These 
spiritual  products  may  be  measurably  put  in  written  form 
and  address  the  eve,  or  they  may  be  put  in  speech  and  action 
and  address  both  ear  and  eye.  To  do  this  effectively  is  no 
easy  task.  The  power  of  thought  is  God-given,  but  it  must 
be  cultivated.  The  power  of  expression  is  distinct  from  the 
power  of  thought;  but  in  many  minds  the  two  are  confused 
and  identical.  As  the  ability  of  thinking  is  cultivated,  so 
also  is  the  power  of  expression. 

5.  —  (  >RATORY    AS    AN    Art. 

The  use  oi  the  agents  of  expression  is  an  art.  The  Greeks 
so   understood    it,   and   compared    oratory   to    sculpture    and 


26  VOCAL   CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

painting.  Our  English  word  "orator  "  is  rather  confusing.  We 
sometimes  apply  the  word  to  a  man  of  genius,  and  speak  of 
orator  as  we  do  of  poet.  The  Roman  understood  orator  in 
the  official  sense  of  pleader.  The  Greek  use  of  the  word 
'Pr'jrcoQ,  meaning  speaker,  is  the  clearest  use  of  the  term  :  then 
every  speaker  is  more  or  less  orator. 

Aristotle's  definition  of  oratory  is  perhaps  the  clearest  and 
most  comprehensive,  "  The  power  of  saying  on  every  subject 
whatever  can  be  found  to  persuade."  Phocian's  definition 
is,  "  The  power  to  express  the  most  sense  in  the  fewest  words." 
Quintilian  calls  it  "  the  power  of  persuading." 

The  subject  will  be  considered  as  the  art  of  expressing 

BY  SPEECH  AND  GESTURE  THAT  WHICH  IS  IN  THE  CONSCIOUS- 
NESS. Very  plainly  the  object  of  the  orator  is  to  have  others 
think  as  he  thinks  and  feel  as  he  feels,  and  through  this  to 
secure  their  action  in  a  desired  direction. 

The  controlling  principle  of  this  instruction  is  utilitarian,  — 
economy  consistent  with  efficiency.  The  orator  should  know  the 
power  of  every  word,  emphasis,  inflection,  act,  and  so  use 
them  that  the  truth  he  utters  may  be  "  understood,  felt," 
by  the  audience. 

This  instruction  repudiates  artificial  rules,  of  which  we  have 
counted  in  one  work  twenty-nine  on  one  part  of  analysis.  It 
discourages  servile  imitation,  and  does  not  attempt  to  tell  a 
speaker  when  to  strike  attitudes,  when  to  make  gestures,  when 
to  thunder,  and  when  to  be  calm.  Artificial  methods  are  an 
utter  abomination.  M.  De  Cormorin  satirically  puts  it : 
"  Be  impassioned,  thunder,  rage,  weep  up  to  the  fifth  word 
of  the  third  sentence  of  the  tenth  paragraph  of  the  tenth  leaf. 
How  easy  that  would  be  !  Above  all,  how  natural !  "  Proper 
instruction  only  tells  a  man  how  to  do  a  thing  ;  the  speaker 
himself  must  do  it  when  he  must,  not  before. 

In  man  as  we  find  him  now,  the  functions  of  expression  are 
impaired.  Faulty  habits  of  voice,  inflection,  and  gesture  have 
been  taken  on.     Thought  and  emotion  arise  for  utterance,  the 


INTRODUCTION.  2J 

speaker  seeks  to  express  himself;  the  words  are  approxi- 
mately pronounced,  and  therefore  all  is  not  lost,  but  the 
speaker  is  controlled  by  some  mannerism  which  thwarts  the 
full  expression  of  what  is  in  his  consciousness.  Some  speak- 
ers constantly  give  the  rising  inflection,  leaving  the  audience 
in  continued  suspense.  Others  again  repeat  the  "  sledge- 
hammer "  gesture,  till  the  audience  feels  like  the  down  man 
in  a  pugilistic  encounter. 

The  first  effort  of  this  instruction  is  directed  to  the  free- 
dom of  the  student,  to  liberate  him  from  vicious  habits  of 
voice  and  mannerisms  of  gesture.  "  I  like  to  be  free  from 
all  art  or  rules,"  says  one  ;  that  is,  a  freedom  to  indulge 
in  mannerisms,  however  absurd  or  extravagant.  But  these 
same  extravagances  ride  him  like  a  nightmare.  They  "  lead 
him  captive  at  their  will."  He  acknowledges  his  bondage, 
but  calls  it  freedom.  Art  does  not  trammel.  We  plead  for 
the  gospel  freedom  that  restrains  from  doing  ill. 

Physical  and  vocal  culture  are  fundamental.  The  agents 
of  expression  must  not  only  be  liberated,  but  developed. 
The  muscular  system  must  be  developed  symmetrically,  the 
nervous  system  brought  into  harmonious  action,  in  order  to 
bring  the  physical  apparatus  into  prompt  and  accurate  re- 
sponse to  the  stimuli  of  thought  and  emotion. 

We  grant  that  the  speaker  must  be  a  mechanic  before  he 
can  be  an  artist.  After  a  mechanical  expertness,  comes  the 
habit  of  doing  according  to  the  principles  of  the  art.  Through 
the  law  of  the  persistency  of  habit,  the  speaker  finally  thinks 
no  more  of  speaking  normally  than  he  does  of  constructing 
hissentem  es  grammatically  or  rhetorically.  Thecaution  should 
be  raised  here  that  effective  delivery  cannot  be  secured  in  a 
few  weeks'  training.  Many  will  spend  years  to  acquire  a 
tolerable  east:  in  Greek  or  Latin  composition,  but  complain  of 
g  mechanii  al  in  delivery  after  spending  a  month  upon 
the  subject,  although  .  masterly  use  of  expression  may  b< 
foreign  as  Sanskrit.     The  art  of  delivery  is  "no  communica 


28  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

ble  trick."     Those  who  have  accomplished  most  at  the  art 
have  been  content  to  practise  long  and  faithfully. 

One  more  caution.  Avoid  practising  before  an  audience. 
Arouse  the  will,  open  the  ear,  giving  only  as  much  attention 
to  the  voice  and  action  as  you  do  to  the  grammar  and  rhet- 
oric of  sentences  when  speaking  extemporaneously. 

6.  —  Qualifications  of  the  Orator. 

Under  this  head  we  can  only  hint  at  the  orator's  qualifica- 
tions, without  pretending  to  give  an  adequate  discussion  of  the 
subject.     To  many  it  may  only  serve  as  a  reminder. 

A  fuller  discussion  of  expressive  man  will  be  found  else- 
where. 

(i.)  Character.  — The  first  indispensable  for  an  orator  is 
noble  character.  Oratory  is  the  expression  of  self.  Oratory 
is  the  man.  Man  is  true  character.  Character  irresistibly 
impresses  itself  on  others  either  favorably  or  unfavorably. 

(2.)  Truth.  —  The  orator  must  have  the  truth,  whether  he 
addresses  a  jury,  speaks  on  the  platform  or  from  the  pulpit; 
he  should  aim  at  truth,  else  he  has  no  right  to  speak. 

(3.)  Thorough  Knowledge.  —  The  orator  should  be 
"throughly  informed."  His  knowledge  of  the  subject 
should  be  exact,  particular,  broad.  Of  too  many  speak- 
ers Bassanio's  criticism  may  be  said,  "  He  speaks  an  in- 
finite deal  of  nothing,  more  than  any  man  in  Venice.  His 
thoughts  are  as  two  grains  of  wheat  hid  in  two  bushels  of 
chaff."      Generalities  are  shallow. 

(4.)  Store  of  Facts.  —  He  should  keep  the  storehouse  of 
his  mind  well  filled  with  facts  to  make  plain  and  enforce  the 
truth.  Out  of  the  abundance  of  his  store  he  should  be  able 
to  "  bring  forth  things  new  and  old,"  to  illustrate  the  truth, 
and  reflect  it  from  different  angles  of  the  subject. 

(5.)  Memory  is  a  valuable  reliance  of  the  speaker,  espe- 
ciallv  if  he  uses  the  extemporaneous  or  mixed  method  of  ad- 
dress.    Without  a  good  memory,  this  manner  of  discourse  is 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

quite  impracticable.  Unless  the  memory  acts  promptly  to  call 
up  the  plan  and  matter  of  discourse,  the  speaker  will  not  only 
hesitate,  but  will  also  be  subjective  in  the  effort  to  call  up  what 
is  needed,  and  thus  fail  in  uttering  the  thought  to  the  audi- 
ence. 

(6.)  Tact.  —  Another  valuable  aid  is  taste  and  tact,  (a) 
as  to  arranging  the  facts  of  discourse,  and  (b)  in  saying  the 
right  thing  in  the  right  place  at  the  proper  time.  The 
audience  is  sometimes  favorable  to  the  truth  and  to  the  speaker; 
frequently  it  is  not ;  then  the  subject  must  be  skilfully  pre- 
sented. This  does  not  imply  trickery,  but  wisdom  in  present- 
ing the  truth,  so  as  to  gain  a  favorable  hearing. 

(7.)  Good-  Will.  — The  orator  must  have  good-will  toward 
his  audience  ;  this  will  gain  their  good-will,  —  a  most  excellent 
starting-point.  One  would  think  that  the  compliments  intro- 
ductory to  speech,  the  introductory  unpretentiousness  of  the 
orator,  would  finally  wear  out :  but  they  do  not.  if  not  over- 
done. 

(8.)  Sincerity. — Again,  the  speaker  must  be  sincere 
toward  the  truth,  toward  the  audience.  If  he  "  handles  the 
truth  deceitfully,"  or  pretends  what  he  really  is  not,  though 
the  audience  may  not  be  able  to  analyze  it,  the  effort  is  shorn 
of  part  of  its  strength.  If  the  orator  is  thoroughly  sincere,  he 
will  be  simple.  The  great  orations  bear  this  mark  of  sim- 
plicity. Sink  forever  the  thought  of  eliciting  the  applause  of  a 
"great  orator."  Fenelon,  in  his  Dialogue  of  the  Dead,  repre- 
sents Demosthenes  as  saying  to  Cicero,  "  You  made  the 
people  say,  '  How  well  he  speaks  ' ;  I  made  them  say,  '  Let  us 
march  against  Philip.'  "  Follow  the  advice  so  frequently  given, 
to  use  simple  words  and  simple  construction. 

.  1  Logic  should  be  faithfully  studied  ;  not  simply  a 
smattering  of  it,  acquired  in  an  abstract  way,  but  studied  in 
relation  to  spoken  discourse. 

(10.)  Rhetoric.  —  The  same  instruction  applies  to  the  mas- 
tery of  rhetoric.      Discourse   should  be  made  with    reference 


30  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

to  oral  delivery.  Every  rhetorical  principle  should  be  studied 
in  relation  to  spoken  discourse. 

(n.)  Imagination.  —  Imagination  is  a  most  valuable  fac- 
ulty of  the  orator.  Bishop  Butler  calls  it  "  that  most  forward 
and  obtrusive  faculty-"  It  should  not  usurp  the  place  of 
logic  or  fact ;  but  it  has  a  place  in  oratory  that  nothing  else 
can  supply.  Imagination  is  the  picture-making  faculty,  and 
in  this  respect  co-operates  with  the  language  of  gesture  in 
making  the  facts  real. 

Speakers  instinctively  say,  "  Now  you  see,"  or  "  Let  us 
look  at  this,''  and  the  audience  arouses  for  another  look. 
This  is  imagination  making  real  to  the  imagination.  This 
faculty,  naturally  strong  in  some,  may  be  cultivated  by  use. 
It  is  of  vast  advantage  to  the  reader.  Through  its  use  scenes 
and  events  are  called  up  and  pictured  with  greater  vividness. 

(12.)  Knowledge  of  the  Fine  Arts. — These  are  related  to 
oratory,  as  they  are  modes  of  expression. 

To  express  himself,  the  sculptor  uses  form ;  the  painter, 
color ;  the  musician,  harmonic  sound ;  the  architect,  propor- 
tion. The  art  of  oratory  has  some  correspondence  to  all 
these  arts.  The  correspondence  may  be  studied  to  advan- 
tage, and  the  orator  will  always  find  help  by  being  familiar 
with  them.     This  analogy  furnishes  us  with  terms  in  oratory. 

In  ordinary  language,  we  speak  of  "building"  a  sermon, 
"making"  a  speech;  all  understand  what  we  mean  by  the 
"  outline  "  of  a  discourse,  the  "  music  "  of  an  orator's  delivery. 

We  speak  of  the  "florid  "  style,  the  "  light  and  shade  "  of 
the  orator's  effort,  the  "  color  and  tone,"  and  his  "  form  "  of 
delivery. 

The  art  not  only  borrows  from  them,  but  lends  to  them  in 
turn,  so  we  have  an  "  eloquent  "  statue,  a  "  speaking  "  pic- 
ture, a  "noted"  building,  "telling"  more  eloquent  than 
words. 

(13.)  It  seems  hardly  necessary  in  this  connection  to 
recommend  to  all  a  familiarity  with  the  best  English  classics. 


INTRODUCTION.  31 

Know  the  Bible  and  Shakespeare.  These  two  books  form 
a  rich  mine  of  wealth  for  the  orator. 

Erskine's  masterly  use  of  language,  for  which  he  was  es- 
pecially noted,  is  said  to  have  been  due  to  his  familiarity  with 
Shakespeare.  A  knowledge  and  happy  use  of  Bible  facts  and 
illustration  have  been  the  strength  of  many  an  appeal  at  the 
bar,  as  well  as  in  the  pulpit. 

7.  —  Conditions. 

Oratory  has  its  favorable  and  unfavorable  conditions. 
Speakers  frequently  fail,  without  being  able  to  account  for  the 
failure.  At  another  time  everything  seems  to  conduce  to 
success. 

(1.)  Occasion.  — Occasion  must  exist  for  splendid  oratory 
as  it  does  for  heroism ;  but  every  speaker  who  desires  to 
serve  truth  and  who  has  something  to  say  can  make  an  occa- 
sion for  usual,  perhaps  for  unusual  oratory. 

(2.)  Good  Health  and  Cheerful  Mind.  —  Dyspepsia  and 
other  infirmities  easily  get  into  the  voice. 

(3.)  Pure  Air.  —  The  speaker  should  live  in  pure  air  and 
speak  in  pure  air.  Janitors  are  usually  ignorant  or  careless 
upon  this  matter  of  ventilation.  Inmost  instances  the  speaker 
will  be  obliged  to  direct  the  janitor  in  this  particular.  The 
benefit  of  pure  air  to  a  tired  audience  as  well  as  to  a  laboring 
speaker  is  generally  acknowledged  and  quite  as  generally 
neglected. 

(See   Respiration  and  Ventilation,  Chapter  III.) 

(4.)  Clothing. — The  neck  dress  should  be  worn  loosely, 
else  the  vocal  organs  will  be  cramped,  impeding  their  func- 
tion ;  the  blood-vessels  of  the  neck  will  be  gorged,  producing 
hoarseness  and  sometimes  chronic  diseases  of  the  throat. 
Lady  readers  and  others  of  the  fair  sex  who  use  their  voice 
must  learn  that  tight  lacing  is  not  only  a  crime  against  health, 
but  a  bar  also  to  the  best  vocal  function. 


32  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

(5.)  Diet.  —  Public  address  should  not  be  made  immedi- 
ately after  eating  a  full  meal ;  for  the  work  of  digestion  and 
vocal  effort  is  too  much  for  the  body  to  perform  at  one  time. 
Moreover  the  full  stomach  prevents  the  diaphragm  from 
descending  to  enlarge  the  vertical  capacity  of  the  thorax. 
But  when  feeling  faint  from  lack  of  food,  the  speaker  will 
not  be  able  to  speak  as  easily  and  with  as  much  vitality  as 
when  no  such  want  is  experienced. 

(6.)  Nostrums.  —  I  should  discourage  the  use  of  nos- 
trums to  "clear"  the  voice.  They  are  harmful  to  the  organs, 
stimulating  them  unduly  and  inducing  an  over-supply  of 
blood  to  these  parts.  The  unusual  supply  of  saliva  is  troub- 
lesome also  in  pronunciation.  A  skilful  use  of  the  voice 
needs  no  such  doctoring.  Even  sipping  water  is  to  be  dis- 
couraged. It  is  unnecessary  in  a  proper  use  of  the  vocal 
organs.  Diseases  of  the  throat  should  receive  the  treatment 
of  a  skilful  physician. 


8.  —  Reading  and  Speaking. 

The  principles  of  expression  in  reading  and  speaking  are 
the  same.  In  reading,  the  thought  and  language  of  another 
are  furnished  ready  to  be  expressed,  but  the  artist  must  first 
make  this  language  his  own  ere  he  can  deliver  it  effectively, 
otherwise  it  will  be  a  mere  repetition  of  words. 

The  reading  of  the  large  majority  of  persons  is  character- 
ized by  lifelessness  and  monotony.  Very  little  attention  is 
paid  to  articulation  and  emphasis,  less  still  to  modulation  and 
kind  of  voice.  The  reading  of  hymns,  the  Scripture,  and  the 
ritual  by  most  ministers  is  ludicrous.  Such  reading  is  unprof- 
itable except  to  those  bent  on  being  benefited. 

The  reader  must  think  the  thought  of  his  author  just  as 
definitely,  see  the  pictures  just  as  vividly,  as  though  he  were 
giving  his  own  production. 


INTRODUCTION.  33 

The  kinds  of  reading  to  which  the  student's  attention  is 
called  are  the  narrative,  the  oratoric,  and  the  dramatic. 

(i.)  The  narrative  is  the  simple  conversational  method  of 
deliver}'.  This  method  must  lie  at  the  base  of  all  delivery. 
Its  essential  office  is  thought-expression,  for  the  purpose  of 
convincing.  It  is  employed  in  presenting  facts  and  in  making 
one's  self  understood.     It  is  distinctly  didactic. 

(2.)  The  oratoric  is  a  stronger  effort,  with  every  part  en- 
larged. Its  essential  office  is  to  express  passion  and  emotion 
in  addition  to  thought,  for  the  purpose  of  moving  others.  It 
makes  more  use  of  inflection  and  different  kinds  of  voice. 
In  the  oratoric,  every  feature  of  the  conversational  is  en- 
larged, but  when  it  loses  the  conversational  element  it  may 
then  be  described  by  the  words  "spouting,"'  "  ranting,"  "preach- 
ing." The  st\de  is  stilted  and  extravagant.  In  the  best  ora- 
toric efforts,  the  speaker  must  frequently  recur  to  the  ease  of 
conversation. 

(3.)  In  dramatic  expression,  the  reader  or  speaker  assumes 
a  personality  or  character  not  his  own,  and  thinks  and  feels  the 
thought  and  emotion  of  that  ideal  character  and  expresses  them. 
The  true  dramatic  artist  is  very  thoroughly  and  genuinely,  for 
the  time,  identical  with  the  character  he  interprets.  This  does 
not  imply  that  he  loses  his  real  identity  or  his  own  personality. 
If  this  new  character  becomes  a  habit,  and  then  passes  to  real 
life,  then  the  man  is  that  new  person.  In  this  very  way,  men 
may  and  do  become  "  different  "  from  what  they  were. 

Any  reader  or  speaker,  then,  who  assumes  to  express  how 
another  thinks,  feels,  or  acts  under  any  given  circumstance,  is 
so  far  dramatic.  For  instance,  if  a  speaker,  narrating  facts 
in  which  the  indignation  of  some  one  else  is  spoken  of,  as- 
sumes to  manifest  that  indignation,  he  is  dramatic. 

The  speaker  <«r  ;  is  "  dramatic  "  when  he  "suits  the 

action  to  the  word  "  in  representing  the  man  of  prid    with  a 
high  head  and  I  ty  air,  or  when  the  traveller  exposed  to 

the  storm  is  represented  as  cowering  beneath  its  fun-. 

3 


34        VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

The  person  who  merely  imitates  another  makes  a  caricature 
of  the  original.  It  is  recognized,  but  as  the  ludicrous  in  it 
is  inevitable,  one  laughs  when  he  should  weep. 

The  question  is  asked,  "  How  far  should  one  be  dramatic  ?  " 
Ordinarily  one  need  but  suggest  the  parts  that  are  dramatic. 
In  reading  the  discussion  between  Christ  and  the  Pharisees, 
we  presume  the  former  to  speak  with  thoughtful  dignity,  the 
latter  with  a  sneer,  fault-finding,  and  accusation.  These 
moods  may  properly  be  suggested  without  attempting  to  speak 
just  as  Christ  did  or  just  as  the  Pharisee.  Pure  dramatic 
composition  admits  of  the  fullest  impersonation. 

These  different  kinds  of  expression  are  not  exclusive. 
Simple  narrative  must  be  more  or  less  dramatic  ;  the  oratoric 
must  be  conversational  and  dramatic  ;  the  dramatic  must  not 
be  without  the  oratoric  and  narrative  elementf. 

In  reading,  the  following  points  should  constantly  be  borne 
in  mind  :  — 

i.  Be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  what  you  are  to  read,  if 
possible,  that  you  may  be  free  from  the  book.  Hold  the 
book  up  ;  avoid  bending  the  head  down. 

2.  Think  the  thought  distinctly  when  reading. 

3.  See  the  pictures  of  the  language  used. 

4.  Think  that  you  are  giving  it  to  the  audience,  not  merely 
before  them. 


PART  I. 


VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


VOCAL  CULTURE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PHYSICAL    DEVELOPMENT. 

The  student  who  really  enjoys  study,  or  who  is  goaded  on 
by  the  necessity  to  be  largely  informed,  is  strongly  tempted 
to  spend  too  much  time  over  books,  to  the  acquirement  of 
knowledge,  without  due  reference  to  its  use  or  impartation. 

A  usual  accompaniment  of  this  is  the  neglect  of  the  body, 
so  the  "pale  student"  and  the  "scholar's  stoop"  have  be- 
come familiar  phrases. 

Other  things  being  equal,  vigorous  thinking  depends  upon 
a  vigorous  body  ;  certainly  a  vigorous  use  of  knowledge  does. 
The  dyspepsia  of  many  gets  into  their  written  and  spoken 
efforts.  The  disordered  nervous  system  untunes  speech,  and 
makes  hard  work  for  the  speaker.  Physical  and  nerve  weak- 
5,  especially,  unmans  the  debater.  The  restless  activity  of 
the  age  afflicts  the  brain  worker  as  well  as  others  The 
hurry  of  American  life  is  the  subject  of  comment  by  others 
as  well  as  by  ourselves.  The  rush  to  become  wise  is  second 
only  to  the  hurry  to  get  rich.  The  annual  summer  vacation 
is  a  reaction  of  our  mode  of  life,  and  as  it  is  fashionable,  no 
doubt  will  continue  to  work  much  good.  But  better  than  this 
yearly  relaxation  would  be  a  regular  and  systematic  attention 
to  t  he  needs  of  the  body. 

The  gymnasiums  of  the  city  increasing  in  number,  and  in 
the  excellence  of  their  management,  with  institutions  for  tech- 


38  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

nical  and  physical  culture,  are  making  physical  development 
more  possible. 

But  the  student's  plea  is,  "  I  have  no  time  for  this,  I  have 
so  much  to  study " ;  and  yet  these  same  men  are  eloquent 
advocates  of  a  Sabbath  of  rest,  or  earnest  in  labor  reform, 
quoting  statistics  and  arguing,  rightly  I  think,  that  the  artisan 
will  have  clearer  brain,  better-balanced  nerves,  and  be  capable 
of  doing  more  in  eight  hours  than  in  ten,  and  of  accom- 
plishing more  for  his  employer  in  six  days  than  in  seven. 

Now  physical  recreation  is  of  the  nature  of  a  rest,  and 
recruits  the  tired  brain-worker  as  cessation  from  manual 
employment  recruits  the  tired  hand-worker. 

The  object  of  physical  culture,  as  advised  here,  is  not 
excessive  development  of  any  particular  muscle  for  strength. 
The  advantage  aimed  at  is  as  follows:  — 

i.     General  physical  development  to  aid  the  vital  functions. 

2.  Special  chest  development  for  lung  capacity. 

3.  Development  for  erect  carriage  and  strong  bearing. 

4.  Development  of  the  muscles  of  respiration. 

5.  Freedom  from  muscular  rigidity,  admitting  of  strong 
and  graceful  movements. 

The  amount  of  exercise  to  be  taken  depends  upon  age, 
sex,  condition  of  health,  etc.  Those  prescribed  here  may  be 
safely  taken  by  all  if  conditions  of  health  or  individual  pecul- 
iarities do  not  prevent. 

As  the  blood-vessels  and  cartilages  begin  to  show  signs  of 
rigidity  at  fort)-,  after  this  age  the  subject  must  be  more  care- 
ful as  to  how  vigorously  he  exercises. 

Fifteen  minutes,  twice  a  day,  devoted  to  the  physical  exer- 
cise, will  bring  good  results,  if  well  followed  up. 

Physical  development  depends  upon  the  following  con- 
ditions :  — 

1.  Accuracy  with  which  any  given  exercise  is  taken. 

2.  The  alternate  tension  and  relaxation  of  the  muscles, 
momentary  rest  alternating  with  action. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  39 

3.  Repetition  or  frequency.  Two  hours'  vigorous  exer- 
cise taken  once  a  month  may  do  more  harm  than  good. 

4.  Ease  or  Rhythmical  Movements.  —  Rigid  constraint, 
constant  tension,  make  hard  work  and  prevent  the  develop- 
ment desired.     Count  during  the  movement.     Be  deliberate. 

Caution.  —  1.  Avoid  exercise  immediately  before  or 
after  a  full  meal.  2.  Exercise  in  pure  air.  3.  After  long 
periods  of  rest,  approach  the  exercise  gradually  so  as  to  pre- 
vent unnecessary  lameness  ;  stop  before  fatigue. 

(For  lists  of  gymnastic  exercise,  see  Development,  under 
Respiration,  and  Preparatory  Exercises,  under  Gesture.) 


40  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPKE5S10M. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    PHYSICAL    BASIS    OF    VOICE. 

Sound.  —  In  order  to  find  the  scientific  basis  of  voice, 
we  make  a  brief  study  of  the  sensation  of  sound.  Physical 
acoustics  is  a  section  of  the  theory  of  elastic  bodies.  Elastic 
bodies  vibrating  set  the  air  in  vibration,  producing  wave-like 
motions  that  reach  to  distant  points.  These  wave-like  motions 
radiate  in  all  directions,  and  are  similar  to  the  agitation  pro- 
duced by  throwing  a  stone  into  a  placid  sheet  of  water.  The 
air  vibrations,  if  sufficiently  rapid,  striking  upon  the  ear,  pro- 
duce the  sensation  of  sound. 

Sounds  are  distinguished  as  (a)  musical  tones  and  as  {b) 
noises.  Musical  tones  result  from  rapid  pe?-iodic  vibrations 
of  sonorous  bodies.  Noises  result  from  non-periodic  vibra- 
tions. 

Musical  tones  are  distinguished  as  to  — 

i .     Force  or  loudness. 

2.  Pitch  or  relative  height. 

3.  Quality. 

Vibrations  of  sonorous  bodies  producing  sound  may  be 
seen  by  the  naked  eye,  felt  as  in  touching  a  tuning-fork,  and 
by  mechanical  contrivances  their  amplitude,  form,  and  rapid- 
ity may  be  determined. 

Force  or  loudness  of  sound  depends  upon  amplitude  of 
vibration.     The  wider  the  vibration,  the  louder  the  sound. 

Pitch  or  place  in  the  scale  depends  upon  the  rapidity  or 
rate  of  vibration.     The  greater  the   number  of  vibrations  in 


VOCAL   CULTURE.  4 1 

a  second,  the  higher  the  pitch.  The  highest  audible  number 
of  vibrations  is  38,000  per  second,  the  lowest  20  per  second; 
from  40  to  4,000  (7  octaves)  only  are  valuable  for  music  or 
speech.  The  number  of  vibrations  is  very  accurately  deter- 
mined by  means  of  an  instrument  called  the  syren,  consisting 
of  a  perforated  disk  in  rapid  revolution. 

Quality  is  that  peculiarity  which  distinguishes  the  musical 
tones  of  a  flute  from  a  violin,  or  that  distinguishes  different 
voices,  and  depends  upon  the  form  of  vibration. 

A  string  or  resonant  body  is  found  to  vibrate  not  only  the 
entire  length  ;  but  at  the  same  time  in  sections  which  are 
aliquot  parts  of  the  whole. 

The  sounds  of  these  sectional  vibrations,  combined  with 
the  sound  of  the  whole  or  prime  vibration,  give  a  compound 
tone  that  ordinarily  reaches  the  ear  as  one  tone.  The  tones 
of  these  sectional  vibrations  are  called  overtones  or  partials, 
and  mingling  with  the  tone  of  the  prime  vibration  gives  the 
quality  of  tone.  The  prime  tone  is  generally  the  loudest  and 
lowest,  and  names  the  pitch  of  the  compound.  The  "  upper 
partial  tones  "  are  harmonics  of  the  prime. 

Compound  Tones. — The  most  important  of  the  series 
of  these  upper  partial  tones  are  as  follows  :  — 

The  first  upper  partial  is  an  octave  above  the  prime,  and 
makes  double  the  number  of   vibrations  in    the    same  time. 

The  second  upper  partial  is  a  twelfth  above  the  prime, 
makino-  three  times  the  number  of  vibrations  in  the  same  time 
as  the  prime. 

The  third  upper  partial  is  two  octaves  above  the  prime, 
with  four  times  as  many  vibrations. 

The  fourth  upper  partial  is  two  octaves  and  a  major  third 
above  the  prime,  with  five  times  as  many  vibrations. 

The  fifth  upper  partial  tone  is  tv.<>  o<  taves  and  a  major  fifth 
above  the  prime,  with  six  times  as  many  vibrations. 

The    sixth    upper    partial   is  two  octaves  and  a  sub-minor 


42  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

seventh  above  the    prime,  with  seven  times  as  many  vibra- 
tions. 

The  seventh  upper  partial  is  three  octaves  above  the  prime, 
with  eight  times  the  number  of  vibrations. 

Many  other  partials  occur  in  some  compound  tones,  but 
always  in  the  same  relative  position. 

"  Simple  Tones  have  a  very  soft,  pleasant  sound,  free 
from  all  roughness,  but  wanting  in  power  and  dull  at  low 
pitches." 

"  Musical  Tones,  which  are  accompanied  by  a  moder- 
ately loud  series  of  the  lower  upper  partial  tones,  up  to  about 
the  sixth  partial,  are  more  harmonious  and  musical.  Com- 
pared with  simple  tones  they  are  rich  and  splendid,  while  they 
are  at  the  same  time  perfectly  sweet  and  soft  if  the  higher 
upper  partials  are  absent." 

"  If  only  the  uneven  partials  are  present  the  quality  of 
tone  is  hollow,  and  when  a  large  number  of  such  upper  par- 
tials are  present,  nasal.  When  the  prime  tone  predominates 
the  quality  of  the  tone  is  rich  or  full;  but  when  the  prime 
tone  is  not  sufficiently  superior  in  strength  to  the  upper  par- 
tials, the  quality  of  the  tone  is  poor  or  empty." 

"  When  partial  tones  higher  than  the  sixth  or  seventh  are 
very  distinct,  the  quality  of  the  tone  is  cutting  and  rough. 
The  degree  of  harshness  ma)'  be  very  different.  When  their 
force  is  inconsiderable  the  higher  upper  partials  do  not  essen- 
tially detract  from  the  musical  applicability  of  the  compound 
tones ;  on  the  contrary  they  are  useful  in  giving  character  and 
expression  to  the  music."  * 

It  is  found  that  one  sounding  body  has  the  power  of  putting 
another  body  in  vibration  without  being  in  contact  with  it. 
When  the  strings  of  two  violins  are  in  perfect  unison,  if  the 
string  of  one  is  bowed  the  string  of  the  other  will  be  set  in 
vibration. 

*  Sensation  of  Tone:  Helmholtz. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  43 

"  Tuning-forks  are  the  most  difficult  to  set  in  sympathetic 
vibration.  To  effect  this  they  must  be  fastened  on  sounding- 
boxes  which  have  been  exactly  tuned  to  their  tone.  If  we 
have  two  such  forks  of  exactly  the  same  pitch,  and  excite  one 
by  a  violin  bow  the  other  will  begin  to  vibrate  in  sympathy, 
even  if  placed  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  and  it  will  con- 
tinue to  sound  when  the  first  is  damped.  The  astonishing 
nature  of  such  a  case  of  sympathetic  vibration  will  appear, 
if  we  merely  compare  the  heavy  and  powerful  mass  of  steel 
set  in  motion  with  the  light,  yielding  mass  of  air,  which  pro- 
duces effect  by  such  small  motive  power  that  it  could  not  stir 
the  lightest  spring  which  was  not  in  tune  with  the  fork. 
With  such  forks  the  time  required  to  set  them  in  full  swing 
bv  sympathetic  action  is  also  of  sensible  duration,  and  the 
slightest  disagreement  in  pitch  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  sen- 
sible diminution  in  the  sympathetic  effect.  By  sticking  a 
piece  of  wax  to  one  prong  of  the  second  fork,  sufficient  to 
make  it  vibrate  once  in  a  second  less  than  the  first,  a  differ- 
ence of  pitch  scarcely  sensible  to  the  finest  ear,  the  sympa- 
thetic vibration  will  be  wholly  destroyed."* 

Thus  sympathetically  the  entire  vocal  passage,  chest,  and 
head  reinforce  the  tones  of  the  vocal  bands. 

The  Physical  Value  of  Vowels.  — One  vowel  sound  is 
distinguished  from  another,  though  both  have  the  same  pitch 
and  intensity.  This  fact  was  long  a  question  of  inquiry.  Sir 
C.  Wheatstone  first  stated  the  true  theory,  which  was  afterwards 
subjected  to  exhaustive  study  by  Helmholtz.  "  The  vibrations 
of  the  vocal  bands  associate  with  the  resonant  cavity  of  the 
mouth,  which  can  so  alter  its  shape  as  to  resound  at  will  either 
the  fundamental  tones  of  the  vocal  cords  or  any  of  their  < 
tones.  With  the  aid  of  the  mouth,  therefore,  we  can  mix- 
together  the  fundamental  tone  and  the  overtones  of  the  voice 
in    different  combinations.      Helmholtz  was    able    to  imitate 

*  Sensation  o£  Tone. 


.(  t  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

these  tones   by  tuning-forks,  and  by  combining  them  appro- 
priately together  to  produce  the  sounds  of  all  the  vowels."* 
We   have   this   important  proof   that  the  musical  and  conse- 
quently the  carrying  quality  of  speech   depends  upon  the  vowel 

elements. 

*On  Sound. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  45 


CHAPTER    III. 

RESPIRATION". 

That  part  of  respiration  carried  on  by  the  lungs  is  natu- 
rally related  to  vocal  effort,  and  its  physiology  and  function 
should  be  understood. 

The  lungs  are  two  large  sacks  lying  in  the  thoracic  cavity, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  heart.  They  consist  of  bronchial 
tubes,  and  their  terminal  air-cells,  numerous  blood-vessels, 
nerves,  and  lymphatics.  The  connective  tissue  binding  these 
tubes  and  cells  together  is  composed  of  highly  elastic  fibres. 
"  Each  lung  is  covered,  except  at  one  point,  by  an  elastic 
serous  membrane  called  the  pleura,  which  adheres  tightly  to  it. 
At  the  root  of  the  lungs,  the  pleura  turns  back  and  lines  the 
inside  of  the  chest  cavity.'"*  This  provision  lessens  friction 
between  the  chest  walls  and  the  lungs  during  the  movements 
of  respiration. 

The  ramification  of  these  bronchial  tubes  is  tree-like. 

The  trachia  or  windpipe,  felt  in  the  front  part  of  the 
neck,  "  consists  fundamentally  of  a  fibrous  tube  in  which  car- 
tilages are  embedded  to  keep  it  from  collapsing.''  These  car- 
tilaginous rings  are  horseshoe  in  shape,  the  round  part  being 
in  front.  The  back  part  of  the  windpipe,  against  which  the 
gullet  lies,  is  not  hard  like  the  front,  "  and  the  absence  there 
of  these  cartilages  no  doubt  facilitates  swallowing." 

The  lower  end  of  the  windpipe  branches  off  into  two 
greater  bronchi,   which  continue   to  separate  into  the  lesser 

♦Quotations  in  this  and  the  succeeding  chapter,  marked  with  an  aster- 
isk (*)  are  from  the  work  of  Dr.  Martin  on  "  The  Human  Body,"  which 
we  have  accepted  as  authority  on  the  physiology  and  function  of  the  re- 
spiratory and  vocal  apparatus. 


46         VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

bronchi.  At  the  upper  part  of  the  windpipe  is  situated  the 
larynx,  or  voice-box ;  above  this  we  have  the  pharynx  and 
mouth  cavities  connecting  with  the  outer  air. 

Tin:  breathing  movements  consist  (a)  of  inspirations, 
during  which  the  chest  cavity  is  enlarged  and  fresh  or  oxygen- 
ated air  enters  the  lungs,  alternating  with  {/>)  expirations,  in 
which  the  cavity  is  diminished  and  the  air,  burdened  with 
carbon  dioxide,  is  expelled  from  the  lungs. 

The  thorax,  or  chest,  is  supported  by  the  framework 
afforded  by  the  dorsal  vertebra,  breastbone,  and  ribs.  "Be- 
tween and  over  these  lie  the  muscles,  and  the  whole  is  covered 
air-tight  by  the  skin  externally." 

The  Enlargement  of  the  Thorax  for  Inspiration.  — 

i.  The  Diaphragm  is  a  strong,  sheet-like  muscle,  arching 
up  dome-like,  separating  between  the  chest  and  the  abdominal 
cavities.  Its  muscular  fibres  radiate  from  the  dome  down- 
wards and  outwards,  and  are  attached  to  the  breastbone,  the 
lower  ribs,  and  the  vertebral  column.  By  contraction  the 
diaphragm  sinks  to  a  horizontal  position,  thus  greatly  increas- 
ing the  size  of  the  thorax  vertically. 

2.  The  ribs  slope  downwards  from  the  vertebral  column 
to  the  breastbone.  "  The  scalene  muscles,  three  on  each 
side,  arise  from  the  cervical  vertebras  and  are  inserted  into 
the  upper  ribs.  The  external  intercostal  lie  between  the  ribs 
and  extend  from  the  vertebral  column  to  the  costal  cartilages; 
the  fibres  slope  downward  and  forwards." 

"  During  inspiration  the  scalenes  contract  and  fix  the  upper 
ribs  firmly  ;  then  the  external  intercostal  shortens  and  each 
raises  the  rib  below  it."  Thus  the  ribs  are  elevated,  the  breast- 
bone shoved  out  from  the  spine,  and  the  capacity  of  the  thorax 
enlarged  from  front  back.  Other  muscles  are  employed,  but 
chiefly  in  offering  points  of  resistance  to  those  already  de- 
scribed. These  are  the  principal  ways  of  enlarging  the  chest, 
and  require  considerable  muscular  effort. 

Now,  when  the  chest  is  enlarged,  the  space  between  the 


\TOCAL    CULTURE.  47 

lungs  and  sides  of  the  chest  forms  a  cavity  which  contains  no 
air.  The  external  air,  with  a  pressure  of  14.5  pounds  on  the 
square  inch,  rushes  in  when  the  glottis  of  the  air-box  is  open, 
distending  the  lungs,  just  as  an  elastic  bag  suspended  in  a 
bottle  may  be  made  to  distend  and  touch  the  sides  of  the 
b  »;tle  from  which  the  air  has  been  exhausted. 

Expiration.  — In  expiration,  very  little  muscular  effort  is 
required.  After  inspiration,  the  muscles  relax  and  the  ster- 
num and  ribs  fall  to  their  former  position.  The  elastic  ab- 
dominal wall  presses  the  contained  viscera  against  the  under 
side  of  the  diaphragm,  arching  it  up.  Thus  the  air  is  sent 
out  in  passive  breathing  most  largely  by  the  elasticity  of  the 
parts  stretched  in  inspiration,  rather  than  by  special  expira- 
tory muscles. 

In  the  forced  breathing  of  vocal  effort,  the  muscles  of  expi- 
ration assist  in  the  expulsion  of  air.  "  The  main  expiratory 
muscles  are  the  internal  intercostal,  which  lie  beneath  the  ex- 
ternal, between  each  pair  of  ribs,  and  have  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, their  fibres  running  upwards  and  forwards."  The  inter- 
nal intercostal,  contracting,  pull  down  the  upper  ribs  and 
sternum,  and  so  diminish  the  size  of  the  thorax  from  front 
back. 

At  the  same  time  the  lower  ribs  and  breastbone  are  pulled 
down  by  a  muscle  running  in  the  abdominal  wall  from  the 
pelvis  to  them.  "  At  the  same  time,  also,  the  abdominal  mus- 
cles contract  and  press  the  walls  of  that  cavity  against  the 
viscera,  force  the  diaphragm  to  arch  up,  and  lessens  the  cav- 
ity from  up  down." 

In  violent  inspiration  many  extra  muscles  are  called  into 
play,  chiefly  as  points  of  firm  resistance,  or  otherwise  assisting 
the  usual  muscles  of  inspiration. 

In  violent  expiration,  also,  many  other  muscles  may  co-oper- 
ate with  the  usual  muscles,  tending  to  diminish  the  thoracic 
cavity. 

Kinds   of  Breathing. — The  breathing  that   brings    the 


48  VOCAL   CULTURE   AND   EXPRESSION. 

upper  part  of  the  chest  into  the  greatest  action,  and  lifts  the 
clavicles  or  collar-bones  excessively,  is  called  "clavicular 
breathing."  It  is  readily  seen  that  the  lungs  in  this  kind  of 
breathing  can  only  be  partially  filled,  as  the  lower  part  of  the 
chest  is  still  contracted. 

When  breathing  is  carried  on  by  action  of  the  ribs,  it  is 
then  called  "  costal  "  or  "  chest  breathing."  This,  like  "clavic- 
ular breathing,"  does  not  admit  of  the  lungs  being  fully  dis- 
tended. 

That  breathing  which  brings  the  diaphragm  into  action  in- 
dicated by  the  external  movement  of  the  upper  part  of  the 
abdomen  outward,  is  called  "  diaphragmatic,"  "  abdominal," 
or  "deep  breathing."  This  fills  the  lungs  completely,  and  is 
evidently  the  normal  breathing.  Many  physiologists  have 
taught  and  still  teach  that  women  naturally  use  the  chest 
breathing,  while  men  and  children  naturally  use  the  ab- 
dominal. 

Dr.  Martin,  among  the  first  ranks  of  scientific  specialists, 
says  :  "  In  both  cases  the  diaphragmatic  breathing  is  the  most 
important.  Women  are  again  warned  of  the  danger  and  folly 
of  tight  lacing,  which  prevents  natural  breathing."  * 

"Diaphragmatic  "  breathing  with  the  "chest"  breathing  is 
known  as  "compound "  breathing.  This  gives  the  greatest 
lung  capacity,  and  at  the  same  time  makes  possible  the  use 
of  the  muscles  of  expiration  in  the  forced  breathing  of  vocal 
effort.  Very  clearly,  then,  diaphragmatic  or  abdominal  breath- 
ing, aside  from  its  relation  to  health,  is  indispensably  neces- 
sary to  the  speaker.  Without  it,  he  will  "  run  out "  of  breath 
frequently,  and  find  it  impossible  to  project  strong  tone. 

Quantity  of  Air  Breathed. — The  average  number  of 
inspirations  of  a  person  sitting  quietly,  and  not  knowing  that 
his  breathing  is  under  observation,  is  found  to  be  fifteen  per 
minute.     After  every  ordinary  expiration,  the  lungs  still  retain 

*  Human  Body. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  49 

about  200  cubic  inches  of  air.  At  every  breath  30  cubic  inches 
(a  little  over  a  pint)  additional  are  taken  in.  This  surplus 
is  again  sent  out  in  expiration.  In  each  minute  a  man  breathes 
450  cubic  inches  of  air.  In  twenty-four  hours  the  quantity 
would  be  648,000  cubic  inches  (22,320  quarts),  weighing 
about  28.7  pounds.* 

Changes  in  Breathed  Air.  —  Expired  air  is  vitiated  to 
the  extent  of  more  than  four  per  cent. ;  this,  mixed  with  three 
times  its  volume  of  pure  air,  vitiates  the  whole  to  the  extent 
of  one  per  cent.,  and  is  no  longer  respirable  for  any  length 
of  time  with  safety.  In  order  to  have  air  to  breathe  fairly 
pure,  every  man  should  have  for  his  own  allowance  a  space 
of  about  800  cubic  feet,  and  at  the  very  least  this  should  be 
renewed  at  the  rate  of  one  cubic  foot  per  minute.  At  least 
five  times  this  supply  of  fresh  air  is  necessary  to  keep  free 
from  odor  the  room  inhabited  by  one  adult. 

Ventilation. — The  necessity  of  thorough  ventilation  is 
very  clearly  seen  by  this  exhibition  :  A  board  about  four  inches 
wide  fixed  under  the  lower  sash,  and  the  window  shut  down 
on  it,  will  give  ventilation   if  no  other  means  are  provided. 


*"The  capacity  of  the  chest,  and  therefore  of  the  lungs,  varies  much  in 
different  individuals,  but  in  a  man  of  medium  height  there  remains  in  the 
lungs,  after  the  most  violent  possible  expiration,  about  100  cubic  inches  of 
air,  called  the  residual  air.     After  an  ordinary  expiration  there  will  be,  in 
addition  to  this,  about  as  much  more  supplemental  air,  the  residual  and 
supplemental  together   forming   the  stationary  air,  which  remains  in  the 
chest  during  quiet  breathing.     In  an  ordinary  inspiration  30  cubic  inches 
of  tidal  air  are  taken  in,  and  about  the  same   amount  is  expelled  in  nat- 
ural expiration      My  a  forced  inspiration,  about  98  cubic  inches  of  comple- 
xlair  can  be  added  to  the  tidal  air      After  a  forced  inspiration,  there- 
t!ic  chest  will   contain   22S  cubic  inches  of  air.     The  amount  which 
can  be  taken  in  by  the  most  violent  possible  inspiration,  after  the  strong- 
xpiration,  that  is,  the  supplemental,  tidal,  and  complemental 
air  to  ,  is  known  as  the  vital  capacity.     For  a  healthy  man  5  feet  8 

h,  it  is  about  225  cubic  inches,  and  increases  about  nine  cubic 
inch  of  height." 


5<D  VOCAL    CULTURE   AND   EXPRESSION. 

Fresh  air  comes  in  between  the  sashes,  the  current  is  directed 
upward,  preventing  a  draught  upon  any  one  in  the  room. 

How  to  Breathe.  —  Breath  may  be  taken  through  the 
open  mouth,  or  through  the  nostrils,  the  mouth  being  closed. 
Breathing  to  sustain  nature's  functions,  to  oxygenate  blood 
and  carry  off  waste  matter,  should  be  carried  on  through  the 
nostrils.  Premature  decay,  disease,  no  doubt,  frequently  are 
the  penalty  of  habitual  mouth  breathing.  George  Catlin,  the 
great  traveller  among  the  American  Indians,  has  a  very  val- 
uable book  on  this  subject,  entitled,  "  Shut  your  Mouth," 
showing  the  vital  importance  of  nostril  breathing,  as  related 
to  hygiene.  His  statistics  of  comparative  mortality  in  certain 
diseases  make  an  interesting  showing  in  favor  of  the  nostril- 
breathing  savage,  compared  with  the  mouth-breathing  white 
man.  He  would  have  the  legend,  Shut  your  Mouth,  written 
on  every  bedpost  in  the  land. 

In  mouth  breathing,  (i)  the  moisture  and  liquid  of  the 
mouth  is  carried  off,  instead  of  being  retained  to  cleanse  the 
cavities  by  the  processes  of  solution ;  (2)  cold  air  is  taken 
immediately  upon  the  lungs,  when  it  would  have  been 
warmed  by  traversing  the  nasal  cavities,  before  reaching 
the  delicate  tissue  of  the  bronchial  tubes.  The  philosophy  of 
holding  a  handkerchief  over  the  mouth  is,  that  it  compels 
nostril  breathing ;  (3)  noxious  particles  are  taken  down  into 
the  throat,  and  easily  assimilated,  when  they  might  have  been 
arrested  by  the  hairs  of  the  nasal  cavities  and  expelled. 

Forced  Breathing.  —  Breathing  during  the  process  of 
vocal  effort,  however,  must  be  carried  on  largely  through 
the  mouth,  as  it  can  be  clone  so  much  more  quickly  during  the 
rapid  movement  of  utterance.  The  speaker  should  keep  the 
mouth  shut  when  possible,  and  breathe  through  the  nostrils. 

Development. — The  student's  effort  should  be  to  secure 

(a.)     The  diaphragmatic  breathing. 

(0.)     Chest  development. 

(c.)      Lung  expansion. 

{d.)     Breath  control. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  51 

Practice.  —  i.  Diaphragmatic  breathing  should  be  not 
only  under  control,  but  established  as  a  habit  ;  for  it  gives 
greater  lung  capacity,  strength  to  project  the  voice,  and  better 
breath  control. 

Exercise  i.  Exhaust  the  lungs  slowly,  by  an  effort  that 
flattens  or  "  draws  in  "  the  walls  of  the  abdomen,  especially 
in  front ;  now  breathe  in  slowly,  directing  the  air  to  the  base 
of  the  lungs,  pressing  the  walls  of  the  abdomen  out,  and 
keeping  the  collar  bone  (upper  part  of  the  chest)  from  raising ; 
follow  by  costal  breathing. 

As  a  practice,  diaphragmatic  breathing  is  facilitated  by  lying 
upon  the  back ;  also  by  keeping  the  fingers  against  the  upper 
part  of  the  abdomen  (in  front)  during  respiration  ;  this  culti- 
vates consciousness  in  the  locality  ;  now  inhale  against  the 
fingers  and  expel  from  behind  ih&m. 

Lung  Expansion.  —  Lung  capacity  can  be  increased  by 
enlarging  the  chest  capacity. 

The  late  Dr.  Guilmette  showed  us  several  photographs  of 
himself  taken  at  different  periods  of  his  life.  The  first,  taken 
in  his  younger  days,  showed  the  shoulders  bent  forward,  the 
chest  flat,  and  the  general  appearances  indicated  a  delicate 
man.  The  other  photographs  showed  the  process  of  develop- 
ment after  he  began  practice  until  the  time  he  stood  before 
us,  erect,  with  an  astonishingly  deep  and  broad  chest.  He 
could  inhale  three  hundred  and  eighty  cubic  inches  at  one 
breath  ;  his  voice  was  immense. 

Exercise  2.  Primary  attitude  (weight  on  balls  of  feet); 
active  chest  (chest  lifted  and  projected)  ;  hands  open  in  front 
of  face,  backs  from  face  ;  bring  the  arms  back  and  down,  with 
firm  effort  and  closed  fist ;  the  face  of  the  wrist  will  now  be 
out  and  the  forearm  vertical. 

Exercise  3.  Inhale  deep ;  hands  on  chest ;  elbows  level 
with  shoulders  ;  now  give  the  chest  light  percussive  taps  ;  this 
effort  bounces  the  air  into  the  distant  air-cells. 

Exercise  4.     Erect,  active  chest;   deep  inhalation.     Throw 


52  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

the  hand  vigorously  forward,  horizontal  and  level  with  the 
shoulder,  baeks  of  hands  up  ;  feel  the  tension  of  the  muscles 
on  upper  back  and  shoulderblades.  Keeping  the  arms  ex- 
tended, turn  the  wrists  up,  clench  the  fists  ;  while  turning, 
bring  the  arm  back  and  down;  now  the  elbows  are  at  the 
side,  the  fist  level  with  the  waist  and  thrown  out.  The 
muscles  of  lower  chest  and  abdomen  are  developed  by  this 
latter  movement. 

Exercise  5.  Knead  the  chest  by  putting  the  hands  as  far 
up  under  the  armpits  as  possible  and  then  squeezing  the 
chest.  This  loosens  the  articulations  at  the  sternum  and 
vertebrae,  allowing  the  ribs  at  the  same  time  to  elevate 
themselves  more  at  a  right  angle,  thus  giving  greater  chest 
capacity. 

Exercise  6.  Distend  the  lungs  with  deep,  full  breath  ;  hold 
breath.  Upon  the  principle  that  heat  expands,  the  air  held 
in  the  lungs  increases  in  bulk  and  distends  the  lungs,  as  the 
air  in  a  bladder  when  warmed  distends  the  bladder. 

The  heat  of  the  body  at  the  heart  is  about  no°.  The  air 
when  taken  in,  only  about  700  Fahrenheit;  when  expelled, 
970  Fahrenheit,  allowing  great  increase  in  bulk  by  expansion. 
We  should  begin  the  exercise  by  holding  ten  seconds  and  in- 
creasing gradually.  Divers  in  the  South  Sea  islands  can  hold 
their  breath  for  three  minutes. 

Exercise  7.  Prolonged  breathing  while  running  and  walk- 
ing. This  exercise  is  said  to  have  been  much  practised  by 
Demosthenes. 

Breath  Control.  —  The  importance  of  controlling  the 
breath  so  that  it  shall  be  economically  expended,  and  vocal 
effort  made  with  as  little  friction  and  fatigue  as  possible,  can- 
not be  over-estimated. 

Many  speakers  have  the  faulty  habit  of  "running  out  of 
breath."  This  should  never  occur,  even  in  the  most  impas- 
sioned discourse  or  utterance. 

Another  faulty  habit  to  be  overcome,  is  the  most  vicious 


VOCAL   CULTURE.  53 

one  of  using  only  the  top  part  of  the  lungs,  with  a  rigid  mus- 
cular exertion.  Accompanying  this  use  of  the  vocal  appa- 
ratus is  the  high,  narrow  tone  so  disagreeable  to  the  ear. 
The  action  in  the  use  of  the  breath  should  begin  at  the  dia- 
phragmatic region.  The  power  to  propel  the  voice  should 
come  from  the  expiratory  muscles. 

Strength  of  voice  and  control  of  breath  depend  upon  the 
development,  contractibility,  and  elasticity  of  the  muscles 
of  respiration,  especially  upon  the  control  and  development  of 
the  expiratory  muscles.  The  diaphragmatic  and  abdominal 
muscles  contract,  forming  a  solid  floor  at  the  base  of  the 
chest,  that,  piston-like,  follows  up  the  emptying  of  the  lungs. 
This  solidifies  the  vocal  effort,  and  is  very  important. 

Exercise  8.     Diaphragmatic  resistance. 

(i.)  Place  the  hands  circling  the  region  just  below  the 
floating  ribs,  thumbs  toward  the  back.  Now  make  a  con. 
tinuous  muscular  effort,  without  breathing,  resisting  the 
hands. 

(2.)  Place  the  hands  in  front,  the  fingers  pressing  on  the 
region  of  the  diaphragm ;  make  muscular  resistance. 

(3.)  Place  the  half-fist  on  the  region  midway ;  muscular 
resistance  as  above.  Practise  1,  2,  and  3  with  continuous 
breathing,  also  with  sudden  breathing. 

Exercise  9.  Extend  the  hands  as  far  over  the  head  as  possi- 
ble, reaching  with  tips  of  fingers;  now  bend  body  forward, 
reaching  to  the  floor  with  palms  of  hands  ;  knees  unbent;  let 
hands  fall ;  bend  back  ;  knees  bent  forward  to  preserve 
balance. 

Exercise  10.  Hands  upon  the  hips  for  support,  thumbs  to 
back,  bend  body  forward,  and  rotate  clear  around  on  the  axis 
of  the  hip  joints. 

Exercise  11.      Hands  hanging;   flex  to  right,  to  left,  without 
>ping,  but  stretching  while  flexing. 

Iixercise  12.  Inhale  as  slowly  as  possible;  hold  the  breath 
(lungs  distended)  as  long  as  possible;  now  exhale  as  slowly 


54  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

as  possible.     Time   this   exercise   and   witness  the   increased 
ability.     Avoid  prolonging  the  exercise  to  discomfort. 

Other  exercises  for  breath  control  during  vocal  effort  will 
be  given  farther  along. 


- 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  55 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    INSTRUMENT    OF    VOICE. 

During  expiration,  the  breath,  forced  through  the  chink 
between  the  approximated  vocal  bands,  sets  them  in  vibration. 
Voice  is  the  sound  caused  by  the  vibration  of  these  bands. 
All  animals  with  a  larynx  are  capable  of  voice. 

The  voice  has  been  compared  to  all  kinds  of  musical 
instruments.  It  is  generally  classed  among  the  reed  variety, 
but  as  it  combines  so  many  excellences  that  others  do  not 
possess,  it  cannot  be  described  by  being  placed  in  any  cate- 
gory of  manufactured  instruments. 

Physiology  and  Anatomy  of  the  Vocal  Apparatus. 
—  The  instrument  of  voice  consists  of 

i.     The  lungs. 

2.  The  muscles  of  respiration,  especially  the  muscles  of 
expiration  :  (a)  the  diaphragmatic  muscle,  (d)  the  abdominal 
and  the  internal  intercostal. 

3.  The  trachea. 

All  these  have  been  previously  described. 

4.  The  larynx,  containing  the  vocal  bands. 

5.  The  pharynx,  the  mouth,  and  nasal  cavities. 

The  larynx  is  a  prominence  on  the  front  part  of  the  throat, 
sometimes  called  "Adam's  apple,"  and  has  a  framework  of 
nine  cartilages,  bound  together  by  joints  and  membranes. 
Muscles  attached  move  these  cartilages  in  relation  to  one 
another. 

Quality  of  voice  depends  primarily  upon  the  size  of  the 
larynx,  or  in  other  words,  upon  the  length  of  the  vocal  cords. 

Modification  of  the  voice,  as  to  pitch,  depends  upon  (a)  the 


56 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


approximation  and  separation  and  (o)  upon  the  tension  of  the 
vocal  bands. 

Control  of  the  vocal  column,  of  the  stroke  of  the  giottis 
(so  called),  and  of  vowel  explosion  depends  upon  the  function 
of  these  bands. 

THE   FRAMEWORK   OF   THE   LARYNX. 

Cs 


From  "  The  Human  Body,"  by  Dr.  Martin. 

Fig.  —  The  more  important  cartilages  of  the  larynx  from  behind :  t, 
thyroid;  Cs,  its  superior,  and  Ci,  its  inferior,  horn  of  the  right  side;  **, 
cricoid  cartilage  ;  t  Arytenoid  cartilage  ;  Pv,  the  corner  to  which  the  pos- 
terior end  of  vocal  cord  is  attached ;  Pm,  corner  on  which  the  muscles 
which  approximate  or  separate  the  vocal  cords  are  inserted ;  Co,  cartilage 
of  Santorini. 


The  epiglottis  is  a  cartilage  that  covers  the  entrance  to  the 
larynx  during  the  act  of  swallowing. 

The  vocal  bands  (ordinarily  called  vocal  cords)  are  liga- 
ments, elastic,  and  of  a  whitish  color,  about  three  fourths  of 
an  inch  long  in  adult  males  and  about  one  half  of  an  inch  in 
females. 


VOCAL    CULTURE. 


57 


The  most  important  muscles  of  the  larynx  are 

The  posterior  crico-  ')    Opening  the 
arytenoidei.  \     vocal  chink. 


The  lateral  crico-arytenoidei  and  the  Closing 

arytenoideus,  assisted  by  the  )■  the 

thyro-arytenoidei.  vocal  chink. 

Governing  the  Pitch  of  the  Voice. 

The  crico-thyroidei  assisted  Stretching 

by  the  )■  the 

posterior  crico-arytenoidei.        j   vocal  ligaments. 


The  thyro-arytenoidei. 


Slackening 

r 


the 


J   vocal  ligaments. 


MUSCLES   OF   THE    LARYNX. 


GOVERNING    SIZE   OF   THE   GLOTTIS. 


Name. 


Attachment. 

To  back  of  cricoid 


The   crico-arytenoi- 
dei posterior.  -j    cartilage  and  to  aryte- 

no  id 


The     lateral 
arytenoidei. 


To    side    of   cricoid 
cartilage,    inner     sur- 
face ;  run  up  and  back  - 
to  muscular  processes 
of  aryt.  cartilage. 


Effect. 

I'ull  back  and  down 
the  muscular  proc- 
esses of  the  arytenoi- 
dei, which  rotate  and 
widen  the  glottis. 

Pull  down  and  for- 
ward, the  muscular 
processes  of  the  aryte- 
noidei rotate,  the  vo- 
cal processes  go  in  and 
up,  and  narrow  the 
glottis. 


58 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


Both  acting  together  neutralize  the  result;  the  arytenoidei 
are  pulled  down  and  out,  off  the  cricoid  cartilage.  This  is 
the  condition  of  the  vocal  cords  in  quiet  breathing. 


TENSION  OK  THE  VOCAL  CORDS. 


Name  of  Muscle. 


The  crico-thyroidei, 
assisted  by  the  poste- 
rior crico-arvtcnoidei. 


Thyro-arytenoidei. 


Attachment. 


Cricoid  and  thyroid, 
over  cricoid  and  thy- 
roid membrane,  and 
are  attached  to  the 
posterior  crico-aryte- 
noidei. 


The  thyroid  lies  on 
each  side  of  the  elas- 
tic folds  of  the  vocal 
cords.  In  front  at-  < 
tached  to  thyroid,  and 
behind  to  the  aryte- 
noid. 


Effect. 


The  thyroid  carti- 
lages, to  which  the 
front  ends  of  the  vocal 
cords  are  attached,  arc 
pulled  down, stretching 
the  vocal  cords,  if  the 
arytenoid  cartilages  at 
the  same  time  be  kept 
from  slipping  forward 
by  the  muscles  behind. 


Pull  the  thyroid  car- 
tilage up,  and  thus  re- 
lax the  vocal  cords. 


t,  —  Thyroid  cartilage. 
c,  —  Cricoid  cartilage. 
v,  c,  —  Vocal  cords  (bands). 

The  crico-thyroid  muscle,  contracted, 
pulls  t  to  /',  if  the  arytenoid  cartilage  be 
kept  from  slipping  forward  at  the  same 
time.     The  vocal  bands  are  stretched. 

The  thyro-arytenoid  muscle  antagonizes 
the  crico-thyroid,  and  brings  the  thyroid 
cartilage,  if  the  latter  be  held  firm,  to  its 
position  at  /,  relaxing  the  vocal  bands. 


,    J        vc 

t 

i 

-K. 

L«-L_ 

c 


7% 


/  it' 


VOCAL    CULTURE. 


59 


THE   MUSCLES    OF   THE   LARYNX. 
From  "The  Human  Body." 


The  larynx  viewed  from  its  pharyngeal  opening.  The  back  wall  of  the 
pharynx  has  been  divided  and  its  edges  (i  i)  turned  back.  i.  Body  of 
hyoid;  2.  Its  small,  and  3.  Its  great  horns;  4.  Upper  and  lower  horns 
of  thyroid  cartilage ;  5.  Mucous  membrane  of  front  of  pharynx,  covering 
the  back  of  the  cricoid  cartilage;  6.  Upper  end  of  gullet;  7.  Windpipe, 
lying  in  front  of  the  gullet;  8.  Eminence  caused  by  cartilage  of  Santorini, 
<j.  Eminence  caused  by  cartilage  of  Wrisberg,  both  lie  in  10.  The  aryteno- 
epiglottiJcan  fold  <>f  mucous  membrane,  surrounding  the  opening  {aJitus 
laryngis)  from  pharynx  to  larynx,  </.  Projecting  tip  of  epiglottis;  c.  The 
glottis,  the  lines  leading  from  the  letter  point  to  the  free  vibrating  edges 
<>f  the  vocal  cords,  b'.  The  ventricles  of  the  larynx;  their  upper  edges, 
marking  them  off  from  the  eminences  />,  are  the  false  vocal  cords. 


6o 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


OPENING  OF  THE   GLOTTIS. 


N^/> 


A,  image  of  the  larynx  in  vocalization  ;  B,  image  of  the  larynx  in  respi- 
ration ;  3,3,  thyroid  cartilage;  4,  epiglottis ;  5,  5,  vocal  cords;  7,7,  ven- 
tricular bands. 

During  speech  the  movement  of  the  larynx  as  a  whole  is 
frequently  made  up  and  down,  varying  the  length  of  the  vocal 
column,  somewhat  on  the  principle  of  the  trombone. 


Section  ok  the  Mouth  and  Throat. 

T,  the  tongue;  V,  vocal  passage ;  H,  hard  palate ;  S,  soft  palate;  A, 
air  passage;  B,  uvula;  E,  epiglottis;  O,  Oesophagus;  N,  trachea;  C, 
vocal  cord ;    L,  larynx. 


VOCAL   CULTURE.  6l 

The  larynx  is  attached  to  the  hyoid  (tongue)  bone  and,  of 
course,  is  moved  somewhat  by  the  action  of  the  tongue.  It  is 
also  moved  up  and  down  by  the  extrinsic  muscles  of  the 
larynx.  It  is  lowest  in  position  in  "  oo "  and  highest  in 
"  ee  "  ;  it  goes  down  during  inspiration,  and  also  as  the  pitch 
of  the  voice  goes  down  in  the  scale.  It  rises  during  expira- 
tion and  in  high  pitch. 


62  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   V. 

VOCAL    DEVELOPMENT. 

We  have  seen  that  the  vocal  function  depends  upon  mus- 
cular action,  and  is  under  the  control  of  the  will.  Practice 
then  for  the  development  of  the  voice  is  as  feasible  as  prac- 
tice for  the  development  of  the  biceps,  or  for  skill  in  finger- 
ing a  musical  instrument. 

While  the  powers  of  the  voice  are  improvable,  development, 
of  course,  is  subject  to  natural  limitations.  No  speaker  need 
lament  that  he  has  a  poor  voice  ;  for  if  he  is  willing  to  do  the 
drudgery  of  practice,  he  may  have  a  passably  good  one. 
Those  who  have  the  best  voices  cannot  afford  to  wait  upon 
nature's  gift.  No  singer  attempts  his  profession  till  he  has 
practised  long  upon  the  cultivation  of  his  voice.  Why  should 
the  speaker  ? 

We  quote  from  Legouve's  "  Art  of  Reading  "  :  — 

"The  organ  of  the  voice  is  not  merely  an  organ ;  it  is  really 
an  instrument,  just  as  much  as  a  piano  is  an  instrument.  On 
leaving  the  hands  of  a  skilful  manufacturer,  a  piano  is  an 
instrument  as  complete  and  perfect  as  human  skill  can  make 
it.  and  the  sounds  it  gives  forth  are  as  harmonious  and  cor- 
rect as  artist  hand  can  produce.  But  the  little  piano  we  re- 
ceive from  mother  nature  is  very  far  from  being  in  such  a 
state  of  perfection.  Some  of  its  strings  are  wanting  alto- 
gether ;  some  of  its  sounds  are  quite  discordant ;  some  of 
its  notes  are  absolutely  false ;  so  that  by  the  time  we  come 
to  be  a  voice-pianist,  we  have  got  to  be  not  only  a  player,  but 
also  a  manufacturer,  a  repairer,  a  tuner,  —  that  is  to  say,  we 
ourselves  are  obliged  to  complete,  harmonize,  equalize,  ad- 
just, and  tune  our  instrument." 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  6$ 

In  discussing  vocal  culture,  we . will  be  obliged  to  include 
more  than  is  put  in  the  definition  of  voice  previously  given, 
for  we  must  consider  its  qualities  as  modified  by  the  cham- 
bers of  the  vocal  passage. 

Breath  Control.  —  As  voice  is  only  possible  during  forced 
breathing,  and  as  voice  production  depends  so  much  upon 
breath  control,  we  naturally  consider  this  first. 

We  have  already  discussed  respiration,  giving  the  different 
ways  of  taking  breath.  Here  again  we  insist  upon  the  neces- 
sity of  at  once  getting  control  of  the  deep  or  diaphragmatic 
breathing. 

The  inflated  lungs  should  be  strongly  grasped,  and  the 
power  to  expend  the  breath  be  under  the  control  of  the 
speaker.  Avoid  collapsing  suddenly,  and  thus  wasting  the 
breath  ;  but  establish  the  habit  of  noiselessly  filling  the  lungs, 
and  of  keeping  a  full  supply  on  hand.  See  chapter  on  respi- 
ration for  technical  practice. 

Attack.  —  Too  frequently  the  vocal  cords  are  not  closed 
as  promptly  and  accurately  as  they  should  be,  and  we  have 
the  effect  of  "gliding,"  instead  of  a  definite  stroke  or  explo- 
sion. This  relaxed  or  uneducated  action  of  the  vocal  cords, 
lacking  control  of  the  vocal  column,  has  been  compared  to 
smoke  lazily  winding  out  of  the  top  of  a  chimney  instead  of 
being  controlled  and  directed,  as  a  nozzle  of  a  hose  controls 
and  directs  the  column  of  water. 

Dr.  Guilmette  gave  the  class  the  syllable  "ung"  to  be  ex- 
ploded on  different  pitches,  make  the  stroke  firm  and  clear.. 
Practise  :  up,  oo,  oh,  oh,  ah,  ah  ;  his,  him,  homely,  hospital ; 
take  any  selection,  pronouncing  the  words  with  vigor. 


Qualities  of  Voice. 

Strength.  —  Strength  of  tone,  as  we  have  seen,  results 
from  amplitude  of  vibration,  and  this,  in  turn,  depends  upon 
the  force  of  expiration  out  of  well-filled  lungs.  Seeking  for 
stn-ngth,    man)'    speakers   "grasp"    the   throat,  constrict  the 


64         VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

muscles  of  the  fauces  and  larynx,  giving  that  unpleasant 
squce/cd  sensation,  and  irritating  the  throat.  This  vicious 
habit  is  a  source  of  the  disease  called  "clergyman's  sore 
throat."  The  muscles  of  the  throat  should  be  relaxed,  and 
the  motor  power  gotten  from  the  diaphragmatic  and  other 
muscles  of  expiration. 

Practice.  —  Instead  of  working  for  loudfiess,  think  of  solid- 
itv.  Use  the  dynamic  method  of  exploding  the  vowels  ah,  oo, 
o,  in  pronouncing  words.     Cultivate  intensity. 

Resonance.  —  In  the  discussion  under  the  "Physical 
basis  of  Voice,"  we  have  seen  that  bodies  in  vibration  are 
re-enforced  by  other  bodies  of  the  same  pitch  and  by  upper 
partial  tones.  The  chest,  throat,  head,  and  lining  membrane 
of  the  entire  vocal  passage  re-enforce  the  vibration  of  the 
vocal  cords,  giving  the  quality  we  call  resonance.  Again  the 
ventricles  between  the  true  and  false  vocal  cords,  the  pharynx, 
the  mouth,  and  the  nares  form  chambers  of  resonance  that 
can  be  tuned  to  any  pitch.  This  interesting  fact  was  the 
subject  of  lengthy  experiment  by  Helmholtz  and  others.  In 
the  late  Boston  University  School  of  Oratory,  the  class  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  Mr.  Alex.  Graham  Bell  demonstrate 
this  fact  by  a  skilful  adjustment  of  the  vocal  cavities  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  of  "  visible  speech,"  and  then  producing 
sound  by  tapping  on  the  throat.  He  placed  a  lead-pencil 
across  the  larynx,  altering  the  cavity  of  the  mouth  to  suit,  by 
changing  the  position  of  the  tongue,  then  snapping  the  lead 
pencil  with  his  finger,  without  vocal  effort  ran  up  and  clown 
the  scale  with  apparent  facility. 

Practice. — Great  care  should  be  exercised  to  keep  the 
vocal  organs  healthy.  Congestion,  condition  of  dryness,  pre- 
vents the  full  development  of  the  parts. 

Practise  the  exercises  for  chest  development,  lung  expan- 
sion, thoracic  flexibility,  as  found  in  the  chapter  on  "  Respi- 
ration." Be  careful  to  relax  the  throat  muscles,  as  all  rigidity 
of  these  muscles  prevents  resonance. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  65 

Body.  —  That  quality  of  voice  that  maybe  described  as 
body  is  the  result  of  deep  resonance,  and  includes  the  lower 
tones  of  the  scale. 

Practise  exploding  00,  6,  a;  deep  inhalation;  round  the 
lips,  prolong  these  sounds,  especially  the  ';oo,"  for  this  is  the 
lowest  tone  in  the  scale.  The  effect  upon  the  ear  is  the 
round,  full  quality.     Take  deep  inhalation,  speak  :  — 

"  Ye  crags  and  peaks,  I  'm  with  you  once  again  ! 
I  hold  to  you  the  hands  you  first  beheld, 
To  show  they  still  are  free.     Methinks  I  hear 
A  spirit  in  your  echoes  answer  me, 
And  bid  your  tenant  welcome  home  again  !  " 

Speak  slowly  in  monotone,  with  prolonged  effort  and 
exhausting  the  lungs  with  the  effort.  The  effect  upon  the 
ear  is  the  full,  diffusive  quality.     Practise,  — 

"  O  thou  that  rollest  above. 
Round  as  the  shield  of  my  fathers," 

with  relaxed  throat  muscles,  round  mouth,  full  lungs,  dia- 
phragmatic action,  with  something  of  bombast  in  tone  ;  do  not 
force  the  breath.  Think  of  its  resonating  in  the  cavities. 
Let  the  mind  be  in  a  generous  attitude.  The  effect  upon  the 
ear  will  be  a  deep,  full  resonance. 

Brilliancy  is  the  resonance  of  the  upper  part  of  the  vocal 
passage,  especially  the  head  and  face.  This  is  accomplished 
largely  by  bringing  the  tone  front.  That  vicious  habit  of 
ventriloquizing,  and  of  allowing  the  tone  to  "  focus  "  far  back 
in  the  fauces,  must  be  overcome. 

It  has  been  observed  that  in  savage  races  the  elements  of 
speech  are  chiefly  guttural.  Brutes  have  only  voice,  and  it  is 
confined  to  the  throat.  As  races  advance  in  civilization,  the 
front  elements  of  speech  predominate.  Elements  that  should 
be  formed  in  the  front  cavities,  when  permitted  to  fall  bark, 
sometimes  indicate  physical  weakness,  as  in  the  case  of  sick 
people  or  invalids.     Often  it  is  a  vicious  habit,  the  result  of 


66  VOCAL   CULTURE    AND   EXPRESSION. 

relaxing  the  muscles  of  respiration  and  allowing  the  voice  to 
fall  back.  It  is  especially  marked  in  some  kinds  of  affecta- 
tion, again  in  patronizing  goody-goody  talk. 

Practice. —  (a.)  Prolong  the  "m"  sound,  lips  lightly 
touching;  imagine  the  tone  front.  (£.)  Pronounce  neatly 
the  syllable  "  bim,"  "  Many  men  need  more  money,"  "  Most 
any  further  margin  merits  failure."  Be  careful  to  hold  all  the 
syllables  from  falling  back  in  the  throat,  especially  the  final 
syllable  of  each  word;  let  the  pronunciation  be  firm,  but  easy 
and  clean-cut. 

For  face  resonance,  practise  "  n  "  (organs  in  "  n  "  position), 
as  "  m "  above  is  practised.  Sound  "  ne,"  ;'  le,"  prolong. 
The  vowel  a  locates  what  we  might  call  the  middle  resonance. 

Practice.  —  Sound  a,  prolong;  "They  may  pay." 

One  point  of  resonance  does  not  necessarily  exclude  the 
other  points ;  the  brilliancy  of  head  and  face  resonance  does 
not  exclude  the  fulness  of  throat  and  chest  resonance.  In 
the  perfect  voice  they  blend  into  a  perfect  whole.  The  listen- 
ing ear  would  locate  the  perfect  tone  when  sounded  between 
the  eyes. 

Chant,  or  better,  speak  on  monotone,  carefully  moulding 
and  prolonging  vowels,  the  tone  formed  front :  — 

Rise,  like  a  cloud  of  incense  from  the  earth ! 
Thou  kingly  spirit,  throned  among  the  hills, 
Thou  dread  ambassador  from  earth  to  heaven, 
Great  hierarch  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God. 

Purity.  —  By  purity  of  voice,  we  understand  freedom  from 
those  vicious  qualities,  the  result  of  faulty  use  of  the  vocal 
organs.  Faults,  previously  enumerated,  might  be  classified 
here  ;  but  as  they  have  been  properly  treated,  we  will  name 
the  following  in  this  category  :  — 

(i.)     Dental  quality  results  from  keeping  the  teeth  closed 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  6"J 

and  allowing  the  air  to  beat  against  them.  The  effect  upon 
the  ear  is  that  dull  and  close  sound. 

Practice.  —  Prolong  "  m  "  (as  before  given)  ;  m  -\-  a,  glide 
from  m  to  a,  then  to  a;  m  -j-  a,  gliding  from  the  first  sound 
to  the  second.  ■  Open  the  mouth  wide,  and  "  think"  the  tone 
front. 

Without  vocal  effort,  practise  letting  the  jaw  fall  freely, 
opening  the  mouth  wide;  and  with  vocal  effort,  practise  "fan, 
lah,  etc.,"  uttering  rapidly  and  letting  the  jaw  fall  easily  and 
generously.  In  separating  the  jaws,  be  careful  to  avoid  thrust- 
ing the  lower  jaw  (chin)  forward.  A  straight  edge  placed 
against  the  chin,  lips,  and  beneath  the  nose  will  guide ;  in 
opening,  the  chin  should  fall  away  from  the  straight  edge. 

Practise  reading,  exaggerating  the  opening  of  the  mouth. 

This  fault  of  keeping  the  teeth  closed  is  very  common,  and 
should  be  constantly  guarded  against.  Frequently  it  arises 
from  a  lazy  way  of  articulating ;  but  more  frequently  it  is  the 
force  of  habit,  that  vigor  alone  fails  to  relieve.  In  the  pro- 
nunciation of  "  e,"  the  closest  vowel,  the  teeth  should  show 
opening. 

(2.)  Nasality  results  from  allowing  the  veil  of  the  palate 
to  hang  down,  closing  the  mouth  aperture  and  permitting  the 
air  to  strike  against  the  veil  or  find  its  way  into  the  nasal  cav- 
ities. This  fault  is  too  common.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  in  address- 
ing a  class  of  young  ministers,  censured  this  vicious  habit, 
telling  them  that  physiologists  were  agreed  that  the  nose  was 
not  an  organ  of  speech,  but  that  it  was  made  to  smell  with. 
Only  "  m  "  and  "  n  "  naturally  pass  through  the  nose. 

Practice.  —  "All  call  Paul."  Read  any  selection  while 
affecting  a  gape  ;  hold  the  nose  with  finger  and  thumb  ;  make 
a  strong  effort  to  get  the  tone  to  pass  through  the  open  mouth 
aperture.  Cultivate  consciousness  in  the  soft  palate,  and  feel 
when  it  is  up  and  when  down.  Listen  for  the  dull  thud  in  the 
voice,  and  prevent  it,  as  directed  above. 

(3.)      Guttural  results  from  lifting  the  back  of  the  tongue 


68  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

against  the  walls  of  the  pharynx,  or  of  contracting  the  phar 
yn\  and  bringing  the  pillars  of  the  fauces  too  near  together. 

Practice.  —  Be  quiet,  composed,  easy  in  vocal  effort ;  relax 
the  "  squeezing  "  effort  of  the  throat,  and  grasp  by  use  of  the 
abdominal  muscles. 

(4.)  Thickness  or  mouthful  quality  results  from  lifting  the 
dorsum  of  the  tongue  too  high.  It  is  sometimes  called 
"sucking  the  tongue." 

Practise  the  proper  use  of  the  tongue  as  taught  in  articula- 
tion. 

(5.)  Huskiness  results  from  (a)  diseases,  as  cold  or  chronic 
disorder  of  the  parts  ;  (6)  failure  to  approximate  or  make 
tense  the  vocal  cords. 

Practice. —  Of  course  get  rid  of  the  disease  under  some 
skilled  advice.  Beware  of  the  many  nostrums  to  clear  the 
throat. 

Practise  the  exercises  found  under  "  attack." 

The  clear,  penetrating,  yet  sweet  quality  of  tone,  which  we 
call  pure  tone,  is  seldom  found  to  perfection  ;  but  of  the 
poorest  voices,  ordinary  perseverance  will  make  good  ones;  in 
this  respect. 

Practise  reading  in  clear,  pure  tone  :  — 

"  Ye  bells  in  the  steeple,  ring,  ring  out  your  changes, 
How  many  soever  they  be, 
And  let  the  brown  meadow  lark's  note  as  he  ranges, 
Come  ever,  come  over  to  me." 

Pitch.  —  By  pilca  we  mean  the  place  in  the  musical  scale. 
The  faults  to  be  guarded  against  are  as  follows  :  — 

(1.)  Stilting  the  voi~e  to  the  higher  range  of  tones  ;  intense 
mentality  leads  to  this  fault,  as  does  also  the  effort  to  made 
one's  self  heard  by  a  large  audience.  In  oiher  cases  it  is  a 
chronic  fault. 

(2.)  Another  fault  is  the,  opposite  one  of  keeping  the 
voice  on  a  low  pitch,  ventriloquizing  in  dull  monotony.     This 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  69 

fault  frequently  arises  from  intense  subjectiveness  ;  again  it  is 
a  habit. 

Practice. —  Mind  and  body  should  be  in  a  free  attitude,  the 
middle  pitch  Of  voice  should  be  found  and  used  as  the  com- 
mon point  about  which  the  voice  is  allowed  to  play.  If  the 
speaker  uses  the  lower  half  of  the  vocal  range,  positive,  long 
downward  slides  will  be  impossible  ;  on  the  other  hand,  if 
the  upper  half  is  used,  the  command  of  long  upward  slides  is 
impossible. 

By  using  the  middle  pitch,  we  have  a  range  above  and 
below  that  may  be  utilized.  The  whole  range  of  voice  is 
necessary  to  the  production  of  vocal  climax,  to  variety  and 
character  of  expression,  now  calling  for  the  thunder  of  the 
lower  range,  anon  for  the  lightning  of  the  upper.  All  thun- 
der and  no  lightning  is  very  monotonous;  all  lightning  is  a 
terrible  strain  upon  both  speaker  and  audience. 

Flexibility  of  voice  is  the  ability  to  move  from  one  pitch 
to  another  either  concretely  or  discretely  with  ease  and 
promptness. 

Variety  in  pitch  and  in  slide  is  indispensably  necessary  to 
effective  expression.  This  depends  (a)  upon  a  clear  ap- 
preciation of  the  thought  behind  the  language,  distinctly  and 
consecutively  appreciated ;  (b)  then  upon  a  skilful  use  of  the 
vocal  apparatus,  the  proper  adjustment  of  vocal  cords,  posi- 
tion of  the  larynx,  and  form  of  the  pharyngeal  and  mouth 
cavities. 

Practice.  —  Sing  the  scale  promptly ;  make  the  third, 
fifth,  and  eighth  intervals,  sung  and  spoken,  slide  up  and 
down  in  speech  on  the  musical  intervals  —  over  one  step, 
two  steps,  etc.  ;  then  swing  the  voice  over  the  same  inter- 
's, beginning  on  a  low  pitch  and  swing  over  the  higher, 
returning  to  the  lower;  beginning  on  a  higher  and  singing 
to  a  lower. 

Pronounce  the  same  word  on  a  different  pitch  ;  take  several 
words,  pronounce  each  on  a  different  pitch. 


70  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

Pronounce  Kook-koo,  repeat  rapidly  with  prompt  attack 
("  stroke  of  the  glottis  ").  The  finger  placed  on  the  larynx 
outside  will  reveal  the  alternate  elevation  and  depression  of 
this  organ. 

Grace.  —  By  this  we  mean  that  smooth  and  gliding  property 
noticeable  in  pleasant  voices,  which  is  the  effect  of  vowel 
quantity.  Some  sounds  that  appear  simple  are  really  com- 
pounds. Take,  for  instance,  the  vowel  "i."  Uttered  in  the 
simple  way  we  find  these  characteristics :  it  opens  with  some 
degree  of  abruptness,  and  gradually  diminishes  on  the  obscure 
sound  of  e,  ending  in  a  delicate,  vanishing  point. 

Dr.  Rush  was  the  first  to  note  this  quality.  He  gives  the 
name  of  radical  to  the  first  part  of  the  element,  and  van- 
ishing movement  to  the  second,  and  calls  the  whole  move- 
ment a  radical  and  vanishing  tone.  This  property  of  voice 
shows  its  superiority  over  all  other  instruments. 

Dr.  Barber  says,  "  The  full  manifcstatmi  of  the  radical  and 
vanishing  in  the  management  of  the  slides  of  long  quantity, 
or  in  other  words,  the  utterance  of  long  syllables  in  reading 
and  speaking,  is  in  the  highest  degree  captivating  to  the  ear, 
and  is  what  gives  smoothness  and  delicacy  to  the  tones  of 
the  voice."'  The  voice,  destitute  of  this  vanishing  property, 
sounds  coarse,  harsh,  and  heavy. 

This  perfection  of  syllabic  quantity  with  vanishing  move- 
ment is  really  a  perfection  of  pronunciation.  But  as  it  so 
manifestly  affects  the  quality  of  the  voice,  we  have  discussed  it 
under  this  head.  It  is  also  intimately  connected  with  in- 
flection. 

This  property  is  noticeable  on  short  syllables,  though  not 
so  obvious.  The  necessity  of  mastering  this  property  of 
voice  is  plain. 

Practise  the  following  elements  :  a  (as  in  fall),  a  (far),  a  (ale), 
I  i  isle),  6  (pole),  oo  (pool),  e  (eel),  and  the  diphthongs  ou  (our) 
and  oy  (boy).  The  sudden  opening  of  these  vowels  and  their 
gradual  vanishing  is  very  noticeable  if  uttered  deliberately. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  71 

Dr.  Rush  gives  the  subjoined  diagram  to  furnish  a  more 
obvious  view  of  the  process. 

&J.  .£ -a.--_"  _-  -.-- 

ABC 

A.  The  opening  fulness;  B.  The  quantity  with  diminishing  volume; 
C.  The  vanishing  point. 

Practise  also  with  the  long  quantity  :  orb,  aid,  all,  save,  old, 
home,  praise,  hail,  the,  isles,  how,  owls,  go. 

Unusual  imperfections  of  voice  resulting  from  congenital 
conformation,  such  as  cleft  palate,  etc.,  hardly  find  appropri- 
ate place  in  this  connection. 

Additional  practice  :  Be  careful  to  observe  the  faults  and 
excellences  enumerated,  and  practise  with  attentive  ear :  — 

"  There  's  a  good  time  coming,  boys, 
A  good  time  coming ; 
We  may  not  live  to  see  the  day, 
But  earth  shall  glisten  in  the  ray 
Of  the  good  time  coming. 
Cannon  balls  may  aid  the  truth, 
But  thought 's  a  weapon  stronger; 
We  '11  win  our  battle  by  its  aid, — 
Wait  a  little  longer." 

Practise  the  following,  giving  especial  attention  to  long 
quantity  ;   utter  smoothly  on  long  monotone  :  — 

"  There  stood  —  an  unsold  captive  —  in  the  mart  —  a  gray-haired  —  and 
majestical  —  old  man  —  chained  —  to  a  pillar.  It  was  —  almost  night  — 
the  last  seller  —  from  his  place  —  had  gone  —  not  a  sound  —  was  heard 

—  l,ut  —  of  a  dog  —  crunching  —  beneath  the  stall  —  a  refuse  bone  —  or 

—  the   dull    echo  —  from   the   pavement  rung  —  as  the  faint   captive  — 
changed  —  his  weary  feet." 

Chant  the  same. 

Practise  on  any  selection,  regarding  all  the  properties 
above. 


72  VOCAL   CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER    VI. 
ORTHOEPY  . 

"Words  arc  the  sounds  of  the  heart."  —  Chinese  Proverb. 

After  voice,  the  next  step  naturally  leads  us  to  consider 
words  and  their  alphabetical  elements,  out  of  which  discourse 
is  made. 

Pronunciation.  —  The  rhetorician  will  enjoin  upon  you 
to  be  careful  to  have  purity  of  diction  ;  then  the  elocutionist 
will  tell  you  to  conform  to  the  accepted  standards  of  pronun- 
ciation. No  one  who  aims  at  perfection  will  be  satisfied  with 
a  pronunciation  because  it  is  the  one  generally  given.  Any 
word  about  which  he  is  in  doubt  ought  to  drive  the  student 
to  some  accepted  standard.  The  printed  standard  is  final 
authority.  It  is  true  the.  standard  is  based  upon  good  usage  . 
and  general  consent  of  the  educated  for  long  periods  of  time  ; 
but  many  educated  persons  are  negligent  as  to  pronunciation. 
The  student  will  have  to  exercise  great  caution  and  diligence 
to  get  the  exact  pronunciation  of  his  mother  tongue.  Only 
the  other  day  we  heard  a  Boston  doctor  of  divinity  use  a 
"  microscope  "  several  times,  instead  of  the  familiar  old  in- 
strument, microscope.  This  was  not  the  only  mistake  of  the 
kind,  nor  is  this  doctor  of  divinity  alone.  Many  of  the  most 
familiar  words  are  often  mispronounced  by  the  best  educated. 
"God"  is  frequently  pronounced  "Gaud";  consequently  there 
is  but  little  difference  between  godliness  and  gaudiness.  The 
letter  "  r  "  is  a  very  much  neglected  letter,  among  Americans 
especially.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  in  his  address  to  students,  said  : 
"  Abhor  the  practice  of  some  men  who  will  not  bring  out  the 
letter  '  r.'    Such  a  habit  is  wewy  wuinous  and  widiculous,  wewy 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  73 

wetched  and  weprehensible."  Such  men  make  "Laud  "  out  of 
"  Lord,"  "  has  "  out  of  "  horse,"  etc.,  if  they  do  no  worse.  In 
the  Southern  States  the  final  "r"  sound  is  converted  into  a 
vowel  sound,  as  in  "  moah  "  for  "more,"  "doah"  for  "door." 
This  letter,  so  frequently  slighted,  at  other  times  is  made  to  do 
service  where  it  is  wretchedly  out  of  place,  as  when  the  "r" 
sound  is  added  to  a  final  syllable  ending  in  a  vowel.  This 
fault  is  common  to  New  York  and  the  New  England  States. 
Here  "law"  frequently  becomes  "lawr";  "formula,"  "formu- 
lar,"  etc. 

A  more  common  barbarism  of  New  England  is  the  change 
of  long  "  u,"  the  richest  vowel  of  the  English  language,  to 
"  66,"  as  in  "  institoot  "  for  "  institute,"  "  noose  "  for  "  news," 
"  dooty  "  for  "  duty."  A  is  apt  to  be  given  as  a  (aunt)  in  the 
Middle  and  Southern  States,  and  a  (aunt)  in  New  England. 
In  New  York  or  New  England  6  becomes  li  —  "  stun  "  for 
"stone,"  etc.  Localisms,  learned  in  boyhood,  cling  to  the 
most  scholarly,  unless  special  pains  be  taken  to  correct  them. 
I  have  heard  a  college  president  in  New  England  speaking  of 
"idears,"  when  he  meant  "ideas." 

Proper  Names.  —  One  may  not  be  expected  to  know 
the  pronunciation  of  every  modern  name  ;  but  mispronuncia- 
tion of  historic  names  is  an  indication  of  ignorance  or  ex- 
treme carelessness.  I  have  heard  "  Goethe "  pronounced 
"Go-eth,"  "^schines"  pronounced  "  yEs-chi'-nes,"  and  by  a 
minister,  "  Onesiphorus  "  transmuted  into  "  O-nes-i-pho'-rus." 

Dean  Alford  ("Queen's  English")  says:  "I  cannot  abstain 
from  saying  a  few  words  on  the  mispronunciation  of  Scripture 
names  by  our  clergy.  This,  let  me  remind  them,  is  inexcusa- 
ble." He  records  the  minister  of  a  fashionable  London 
church  introducing  "  Epen-e-tus  "  and  "  Pa-tro' bus  "  to  the 
audience;  and  another  clergyman  reading,  " Tro-phi'-mus 
have    I   left   at   Mil'-e-tum   sick." 

Syllabication.  —  A  syllable  is  the  shortest  appreciable  por- 
tion of  pronunciation,  and  strikes  the  ear  as  a  single  impulse. 


74  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

1 1,  however,  consists  of  one  or  more  elementary  sounds.  "  Ah  " 
consists  of  but  one  element,  while  "strands  "  consists  of  seven. 
The  simple  syllable  "  m-a-n  "  has  three  elements.  The  organs 
of  the  voice  must  be  placed  in  position  for  each  of  them,  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  this  is  done  prevents  any  appreciable 
silence  between  the  respective  elements,  and  so  the  three 
come  to  the  ear  as  one  sound. 

Languages  differ  as  to  how  many  consonants  shall  combine 
with  the  vowel  element  to  form  a  syllable.  The  Hawaiian 
admits  of  only  the  simplest  kind  of  combination,  —  a  single 
preceding  consonant.  The  English  stands  nearly  at  the  other 
end  of  the  scale,  allowing  as  many  as  three  preceding  and  four 
succeeding  consonants,  aggregating  sometimes  seven  articu- 
lates, as  in  "  s-p-1-i-n-t-st."  The  method  of  syllabication,  in 
more  refined  languages  at  least,  seems  to  be  one  of  economy, 
progressing  from  the  less  open  to  the  more  open  position 
of  the  mouth  aperture,  as  "s-t-a-y,"  or  the  reverse,  "a-s-k." 
These  two  ways  maybe  combined,  as  in  "s-t-r-a-n-d."  We 
cannot  make  zigzags  in  syllables.  T-r-s-n-d-a  is  an  impossi- 
bility as  one  syllable,  though  containing  only  the  same  num- 
ber of  elements  as  "strand." 

Faults  or  excellencies  of  pronunciation  depend  upon  faulty 
or  excellent  action  of  the  organs  in  elementary  enunciation. 
That  the  organs  must  assume  six  or  eight  different  and  defi- 
nite positions  in  the  pronunciation  of  words  of  average  length, 
indicates  how  extremely  lively  these  organs  must  be,  else  they 
will  trip  and  stumble  over  each  other,  preventing  distinctness 
and  good  vowel  quality.  But  facts  quite  wonderful  are  possi- 
ble in  pronunciation.  Mr.  Moody,  the  revivalist,  is  said  to 
have  spoken  two  hundred  and  twenty  words  in  a  minute. 

Syllabication  also  includes  accent.  The  syllable  to  be 
accented  must  also  be  determined  by  the  acknowledged 
standards. 

Alphabetic.  —  The  simplest  division  of  elementary  sounds 
is  into  vowels  and  consonants,  based  upon  organic  action,  as 
follows :  — 


VOCAL    CULTURE. 


75 


Vowels  result  from  definite  fixed  position  of  the  organs  of 
speech  ;  they  are  non-obstructive  and  syllabic.  That  is,  they 
do  not  obstruct  the  breath  or  voice,  and  are,  the  norm  of 
syllables. 

Consonants  result  from  definite  fixed  positions  of  the 
organs  of  speech.  They  are  obstructive  and  non-syllabic. 
According  to  Prof.  Bell,  there  are  seventeen  vowel  and  twenty- 
six  consonant  elements  in  the  English  language. 

Vowel  Analysis.  —  Vowels  classified  so  as  to  indicate 
the    part   of   the    tongue    most   actively   concerned   in   their 


Front. 


moulding :  — 

Back. 

Top. 

55  as  in  po5l. 

a  as  in  ask. 

u 

'    "   pull. 

U   "    "   urn. 

u 

'    "   up. 

0 

'    "   p51e. 

a 

'    "  far. 

I 

'    "  isle. 

au 

"    "  Paul. 

6 

'   "  on. 

ow 

•  ii 

'    "  owl. 

ee 

as 

in 

feel. 

i 

it 

" 

111. 

a. 

II 

U 

ale. 

e 

II 

it 

met. 

a 

II 

ti 

at. 

"1 


Proceeding  from  the  top  of  the  column  down,   you  pass 
successivelv  from    the    more    elevated   to    the    less   elevated 

J 

position  of  the  tongue.  The  same  vowel  sound  is  not  uni- 
formly represented  by  the  same  character ;  "  oo  "  as  in  pool 
is  represented  by  u  (rude),  o  (do),  etc.,  etc. 

The  sound  of  each  of  the  above  vowels  should  be  familiar 
to  the  student ;  he  should  learn  to  distinguish  them  early  by 
the  ear,  and  give  them  promptly  in  pronunciation  by  whatever 
character  represented.  The  organs  in  moulding  these  vowels 
must  be  definitely  fixed,  as  the  character  of  the  vowel  depends 
upon  the  shape  of  the  mouth  cavity.  An  approximation  will 
only  give  an  approximate  vowel.  The  student  should  not 
let  the  character  confuse  him  as  to  the  sound  he  is  to  give; 
ts  the  same  sound  as  a  (ale). 


j6  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

lazy  pronunciation,  the   organs   are  adjusted   to  the  easiest 
position.     Habitual   faulty  pronunciation   of  certain  vowels 
sometimes  interferes   with   the  proper  adjustment  for  othei 
vowels.     Slovenly  speakers  give  putatuh,  for  potato;  stun,  for 
stone;  induvisiibility,  for  indivisibility;  cluck,  for  clock,  etc. 

i.  The  most  common  fault  and  the  one  to  be  guarded 
against,  is  the  tendency  to  make  long  vowels  short.  The 
shortening  of  vowel  quantity  in  pronunciation  gives  the 
disagreeable  quality  of  voice  previously  considered. 

2.  As  unaccented  vowels  are  unmarked  in  the  dictiona- 
ries, it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  give  the  quantity  of  the 
obscure  vowels.  Prof.  Monroe  gave  the  following  rules  to 
aid  in  this  case  :  — 

i.  "A,  i,  y,  ending  an  unaccented  syllable  is  generally 
short  obscure,  as  in  the  words,  a-bound,  capable,  d/rect, 
pr- rites. 

Exception.  —  These  vowels  are  long  when  they  directly  pre- 
cede an  accented  vowel,  as  in  a-e'-rial,  dz-ameter,  lry-e'na. 

2.  E,  o,  or  u,  ending  an  unaccented  syllable,  is  generally 
long  obscure,  as  in  <?-vent,  nw-lest,  c^-taneous. 

3.  In  cases  where  the  preceding  rules  will  not  apply,  place 
the  accent  on  the  doubtful  syllable  to  determine  its  sound ; 
thus  change  lag'-gard  to  laggard',  and  it  will  readily  be  per- 
ceived that  the  sound  in  the  last  syllable  is  that  of  a. 

The  article  a  has  always  the  sound  of  a  (at),  obscure, 
approaching  short  vowel  u  (up) . 

The  article  the  is  pronounced  thi  before  a  vowel,  and  thii 
(vowel  very  obscure)  before  a  consonant. 

Practice. —  1.  Exercise  ewe  and  energy  in  conversational 
pronunciation. 

2.  a,  06,  ee,  may  be  regarded  as  key  vowels  as  to  the 
position  of  the  tongue,  lips,  and  vocal  cords. 

In  a  the  lower  jaw  drops  to  its  widest  extent,  the  upper  lip 
is  lifted  and  arched,  showing  the  upper  front  teeth,  the 
aperture    suggesting   an  equal-sided  triangle,  whose  base  is 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  77 

the  lower  lip,  tongue  flat  and  hollow.  This  position  should 
be  mastered.  •  * 

In  e  the  mouth  should  be  extended  as  far  as  possible  side- 
wise,  showing  the  tips  of  the  teeth. 

In  "  oo  "  contract  and  round  the  lips. 

i.  Practise  uttering  these  vowels  in  rapid  succession,  con- 
tinuously, e-ah-oo  ;  ah-e-oo  ;  oo-ah-e,  etc. 

2.  Arrange  a,  e,  i,  o,  u  in  every  conceivable  order,  and 
utter  them  as  above,  and  then  deliberately. 

3.  To  liberate  the  jaw,  utter  rapidly  and  continuously, 
fah,  lah,  etc. 

Consonants. — Consonants,  unlike  vowels,  obstruct  the 
vocal  passage  by  the  tongue  articulating  with  the  upper  teeth, 
the  palate,  or  by  the  articulation  of  the  lips,  and  lip  and 
teeth.  Some  are  given  with  only  breath,  others  with  voice. 
Care  should  be  taken  to  permit  only  the  nasals  to  pass 
through  the  nasal  cavities. 


With  Breath  only. 

With  Voice.                           Nasals. 

r  — 

B  —                                          M  — 

Wh  —  (why) 

W  —                                            N  — 

F  — 

V  —                                          Ng  —  (sing) 

Th  —  (thin) 

Dh—  (this) 

S  — 

Z  —  (zone) 

T  — 

D  — 

Sh  —  (shed) 

R—  (roll) 

II  — 

Zh  —  (azure) 

K  — 

Y  — 

Rh  — 

G  — 

Yh  — 

R—  (oar) 
L  — 

Articulation.— 

-The 

value    of   distinct  articulation  is  of 

prime  importance  ;  for  it  enables  the  speaker  to  make  his 
words,  at  least,  understood.  This  excellence  hides  a  multi- 
tude of  oratorical  sins. 

Mr.  A.  M.  Bell  heard  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon  address  an 
assembly  of  twenty-live  thousand  people  in  Agricultural  Hall, 
London.     The  speaker  was  easily  heard  and  understood  by 


•jZ  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

all,  and  this  with  only  usual  exertion.  Mr.  Bell  attributed 
this  success  to  the  speaker's  accurate  and  vigorous  enuncia- 
tion. In  articulation  each  word  should  be  cleanly  carved 
and  plainly  stamped,  as  the  gold  piece  from  the  coiner. 

Some  of  the  faults  of  articulation  are  as  follows :  Thickness, 
using  the  middle  instead  of  top  of  tongue.  Sometimes  this 
is  a  congenital  defect,  and  the  surgeon's  knife  must  be  sought 
to  "snip  the  fraenum." 

Burring,  caused  by  approximating  the  back  of  the  tongue 
to  the  walls  of  the  pharynx. 

Lisping,  giving  "  th"  for  the  "  s  "  sound.  To  correct,  place 
tip  of  the  tongue  about  three  quarters  of  an  inch  back  of  the 
upper  teeth  in  uttering  "s." 

Stuttering  and  stammering  are  most  serious  impediments. 
The  sufferer  should  seek  skilled  advice.  One  or  two  help- 
ful points  are  enumerated  :  first  establish  deep  and  regular 
breathing  during  vocal  effort,  hold  the  head  firm,  read  and 
speak  lazily. 

The  common  faults  that  beset  the  greatest  number  of 
speakers  are  the  following  :  — 

Drawling,  a  habit  of  making  vocal  effort  while  waiting  for 
another  thought  or  word.  This  class  of  speakers  in  extreme 
cases,,  hang-ugh  on-ugh  the-ugh  word. 

Lack  of  Prompt  and  Definite  Action  of  the  Or- 
gans.—  Dental  quality,  resulting  from  keeping  the  teeth  too 
firmly  closed.  This  is  a  very  common  fault  and  one  that  must 
be  constantly  guarded  against,  especially  as  it  is  apt  to  be  ac- 
companied by  a  rigid  condition  of  the  muscles  of  the  throat. 
Many  speakers  do  not  show  the  least  space  between  the 
teeth  in  uttering  the  less  open  vowels.  In  "  e,"  the  closest 
vowel,  there  should  be  space  enough  between  the  teeth  to 
admit  a  thick  paper-cutter. 

Sluggish,  Unruly  Tongue.  —  This  fault  requires  energy 
in  the  articulation  and  use  of  the  tip  of  the  tongue. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  79 

To  secure  good  vowel  moulding  and  articulation,  the  student 
should  direct  his  efforts  mainly  to  the  following  points  :  — 
i .      7b  bring  the  tone  forward  as  treated  of  before. 

2.  Free  and  generous  opening  of  the  lips  and  separation  of 
teeth. 

3.  Perfect  control  of  the  tongue,  especially  the  ability  to  keep 
the  tongue  flat  in  the  mouth  at  will.  The  vowel  "ah,"  may 
be  selected  as  a  practice  vowel.  While  uttering  it  the  tongue 
should  be  troughed,  the  tip  touching  the  lower  teeth.  This 
gives  an  unobstructed  passage  for  vocal  emission.  The  top 
of  the  tongue  has  a  constant  tendency  to  arch  up,  obstructing 
the  passage  and  producing  a  squeezed  quality  of  voice. 

1 .  Practice  btfore  the  mirror. 

(a.)  Open  the  mouth,  depress  the  tongue,  lift  the  veil  of 
the  palate,  till  the  uvula  quite  disappears.  The  gaping  effort 
will  usually  effect  this. 

1/'.)  Hold  the  mouth  open,  thrust  the  tongue  far  out,  sud- 
denly draw  it  in  as  far  as  possible. 

(c.)  Holding  the  mouth  open,  with  tip  of  the  tongue  reach 
back  to  the  soft  palate  as  far  as  possible. 

2.  Practice  for  articulation.  As  the  defects  of  articulation 
are  elementary,  correction  should  be  applied  to  the  elements. 

Learn  the  position  for  the  consonants,  then  vigorously  ar- 
ticulate them. 

3.  Practice  for  lip  mobility.  Gently  closing  the  lips  witli 
teeth  slightly  separated,  distend  the  mouth  laterally  as  in 
smiling.  Now  without  separating  the  lips,  suddenly  shoot 
them  out  to  the  "60"  position.  Immovable  lips  and  flat 
mouth  are  very  common  faults,  and  should  receive  the  special 
care  of  the  student. 

4.  Practise  repeating  continuously  do  do,  etc.,  to  to.  etc.; 
this  exercise  liberates  the  tongue,  also  lo  and  fa,  la,  si,  do. 

5.  Practise  speaking  with  exaggerated  movement  of  the 
tongue  and  lips,  as  though  speaking  to  deaf  mutes. 

6.  Practise  difficult  combinations  :  ip,  it,  ik,  if,  ith,  iss,  ish, 


80  VOCAL   CULTURE   AND   EXPRESSION. 

im,  in,  ing,  it,  id,  ig,  in,  ith,  iz,  izh,  ith,  iss,  ith,  ish,  iss,  ith, 
iss,  ish,  ish,  iss,  ish,  ith,  ith,  iss,  ith,  ith,  ish,  ith,  iss,  ish,  iss,  ish, 
ith,  izh,  il,  in,  il,  ing,  in,  ill,  in,  ing,  ing,  il,  ing,  in,  ill,  in,  ing, 
il,  ing,  in,  in,  il,  ing,  in,  il,  ing,  in,  ing,  il,  ing,  in,  il,  ib,  it,  id, 
im,  in,  ir,  ir,  ib,  ir,  ir,  pa,  ta,  fa,  tha,  sha,  ma,  na,  ga,  ha,  ka, 
po,  to,  fo,  tho,  sho,  mo,  no,  go,  ho,  ko,  pa,  etc. 

Pronounce  the  following  with  particular  reference  to  the 
final  element,  but  be  careful  not  to  prolong  the  final  sound 
unnaturally :  pip,  tip,  pip,  pit,  tit,  pik,  kik,  tik,  thith,  tath, 
shooth,  sus,  shis,  shas,  shish,  bib,  gab,  did,  gid,  gog,  dog,  bog, 
pif,  tath,  bit,  mir,  pop,  rim,  thid,  lil,  rol,  ral,  rin,  lin,  pan,  ram, 
lim,  sim,  rim,  ing,  ling,  ming. 

Table  of  Consonant  Sounds.  —  Prob'd'st,  trou-b/ed, 
troubl' 'd 'st,  rob-F  st,  candle,  handl'd,  iondlest,  blac-kens,  think' st, 
fall'st,  elves,  whelm,  whelmed,  help'st,  filtlid,  heaths,  entombed, 
ranged,  think' j/,  flinclW,  songs,  arcs,  hookV,  sna-r/ 'd'st,  hoopW, 
xeafst,  hurt'j/,  searchV/,  heart/is,  wreathed,  rhythm,  battles,  set- 
tl'd'st,  liv'st,  muzzle,  imprison'd,  imprison'd'st. 

Repeat  the  following  quickly  and  with  firm  accentuation  : 
act,  acts,  beef-broth,  chaise,  cloud-capt,  eighths,  faith,  fifths, 
judged,  knitting,  literally,  literary,  literarily,  linen,  mimic, 
needle,  popped,  plural,  quacked,  quiet,  railroad,  raillery, 
rennet,  saith,  sash,  sixths,  soothe,  Scotch,  sloth,  statistics, 
twelfths,  vivify,  vivication,  wife,  whiff,  whip.  Farewell  in  wel- 
fare. Fine  white  wine  vinegar  with  veal.  May  we  vie.  Bring 
a  bit  of  buttered  bran  bread.  Some  pranks  Franks  play  in 
the  tank.  A  bad  big  dog.  Keep  the  tippet  ticket.  Geese 
cackle,  cattle  low,  crows  caw,  cocks  crow.  A  knapsack  strap. 
Take  tape  and  tie  the  cape.  Come  and  cut  the  tongue,  cook. 
Fanny  flattered  foppish  Fred.  Giddy  Kitty's  tawdry  gewgaws. 
Kate's  ten  cents.  Six  thick  thistle  sticks.  Let  reason  rule 
your  life.  A  lucent  rubicund  rotary  luminary.  Don't  run 
along  the  wrong  labyrinth.     Lucy  likes  light  literature. 


VOCAL    CULTURE.  8 I 

I.     'T  was  a  wild,  mad  kind  of  a  night,  as  black  as  the  bottomless  pit, 
The  wind  was  howling  away  like  a  Bedlamite  in  a  fit, 
Tearing  the  ash  boughs  off,  and  mowing  the  poplars  down, 
In  the  meadows  beyond  the  old  flour-mill  where  you  turn  to  go  off  to 
the  town. 

2.  Nothing  could  stop  old  Lightning  Bess  but  the  broad  breast  of  the 
sea. 

3.  Lovely  art  thou,  O  Peace,  and  lovely  are  thy  children,  and  lovely 
are  thy  footsteps  in  the  green  valleys. 

4.  To  an  American  visiting  Europe,  the  long  voyage  he  has  to  make 
is  an  excellent  preparative.  From  the  moment  you  lose  sight  of  the 
land  you  have  left,  all  is  vacancy,  until  you  step  on  the  opposite  shore 
and  are  launched  at  once  into  the  novelties  and  bustle  of  another  world. 


VOCAL  EXPRESSION. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

LANGUAGE. 

Language  in  its  broadest  function  reveals  not  only  that 
which  man  designs  to  express,  but  infinitely  more.  It 
expresses  not  only  what  the  man  creates  in  his  mind,  but 
really  what  he  is  also. 

The  orator's  office,  perhaps,  is  to  express  only  what  he 
thinks  and  feels  ;  but  as  what  a  man  does  is  inseparable  from 
what  he  is,  it  may  be  profitable  to  look  briefly  at  language  in 
the  broadest  light.  But  first,  the  intentional  language  of  the 
orator  does  not  consist  merely  of  the  literal  or  spoken  form. 
"It  was  not  what  he  said,  but  it  was  the  way  he  said  it," 
is  a  comment  frequently  heard  upon  another's  utterance. 
The  most  scathing  invective  may  be  couched  in  language  of 
complimentary  form.  Irony  gets  its  meaning  and  sting  from 
the  tone  in  which  it  is  spoken,  while  the  words  pretend  to 
praise. 

Delsarte  classified  these  different  agents  and  methods  of 
expression  as  "nine  languages." 

First,  the  language  of  forms.  The  nature  and  habits  of  the 
snake  or  eagle  may  be  determined  by  its  form. 

Man's  place  in  the  order  of  beings  is  also  indicated  by  the 
form  of  his  body.  The  hand  especially  indicates  his  superi- 
ority.    The  form  is  more  or  less  modified  by  the  inner  life. 

Second,  Attitudes.  All  emotions  strong  enough  to  pro- 
nounce themselves,  find  expression  in  appropriate  attitude,  or 
significant  change  of  form  and  position  in  relation  to  others. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  83 

Third,  Automatic  movements.  These  are  unconscious  es- 
capes of  character,  unpurposed  movements,  as  trembling, 
nodding,  biting  of  the  lips,  etc. 

Fourth,  Gesture.  This  is  nature's  language,  a  valuable 
handmaid  to  articulate  speech. 

Fifth,  Facial  expression.  "The  eye  is  the  window  of  the 
soul.''  I  think  it  is  equally  as  true,  and  fully  as  trite,  that  the 
face  is  the  mirror  of  the  soul.  The  animated  face  is  an  open 
book  of  the  soul's  contents. 

Sixth,  Inarticulate  noises.  "  All  organic  or  emotional  states 
seeking  uncontrolled  expression,  reveal  themselves  in  crude 
noises,"  as  the  whistle,  hiss,  cough,  sob,  groan,  etc. 

Seventh,  Inflected  tones.  "The  quality,  pitch,  cadence  of 
voice,  reveal  the  range  of  emotion  in  kind  and  degree."  The 
"yell  of  rage,"  the  "wail  of  sorrow,"  the  "monotone  of 
sublimity."  etc.,  are  found  under  this  head. 

Eighth,  Articulate  language.  Articulate  language  is  the 
medium  of  the  intellect. 

Ninth,  Deeds.  This  is  a  very  solid  manifestation  of  self. 
So  the  proverb  comes  that  "  actions  speak  louder  than 
words." 

We  will  study  at  greater  length  the  second,  fourth,  fifth, 
sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth  of  these  languages. 

Articulate  and  Inflected  Language.  —  Words  reveal 
the  intellectual  state.  So  we  have  the  incisive  and  compact 
utterance  of  the  clear  thinker,  in  contrast  to  the  intellectual 
status  of  the  wordy  speaker,  bankrupt  in  thought. 

Voice  reveals  the  sensitive  state.  None  fail  to  appreciate 
the  "  clear,  honest  voice  of  health  and  refinement,  the  minc- 
ing fop,  the  muddy  vocality  of  vice." 

Inflections  reveal  the  moral  state.  The  positive  inflection 
of  the  man  of  conviction,  the  circumflex  of  a  double  dealer, 
the  mechanical  and  nasal  whine  of  the  hypocrite,  are  inter- 
preted by  all,  if  all  are  not  able  to  analyze  the  mechanics  of 
the  language  used. 


84  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

Articulate  Language.  —  The  first  effort  of  every  speaker 
should  be  to  make  himself  understood. 

Emphasis.  —  The  intelligibility  of  articulate  language  de- 
pends upon  emphasis.  Words  are  made  emphatic  by  giving 
them  prominence,  compelling  them  to  stand  out  in  the  sen- 
tence. This  is  accomplished  by  pausing  before  or  after  a 
word,  by  the  quality  of  the  voice  used,  but  most  usually  by  an 
increased  force  ("stress")  of  voice  on  the  accented  syllable 
on  a  higher  pitch.  The  word  to  be  emphasized  is  the  one  that 
conveys  the  meaning  intended.  Any  sentence  may  convey  as 
many  meanings  or  shades  of  meaning  as  it  has  words.  Do 
you  study  elocution  ?  Really,  I  do  not.  Do  you  study  elocu- 
tion ?  No,  but  my  brother  does.  Do  you  study  elocution  ? 
No,  I  ignore  it  as  beneath  my  dignity.  Do  you  study  elocu- 
tion ?     No,  I  prefer  theology. 

The  author  must  have  clearly  in  his  mind  what  he  does 
mean,  and  then  command  the  emphasis  to  express  it.  Re- 
porters are  not  always  to  blame  for  misunderstanding  the 
speaker ;  speakers  and  readers  are  frequently  slovenly  in 
using  emphasis.  In  deliberative  assemblies,  I  have  heard 
speakers  interrupted,  and  questioned  as  to  their  meaning. 
With  the  same  sentence,  but  correctly  emphasized,  the 
speaker  re-states  himself,  and  the  audience  is  no  longer  in 
doubt. 

Usually  the  word  that  expresses  the  most,  when  separated 
from  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  is  the  one  that  reveals  the 
thought. 

"  From  the  workshop  of  the  Golden  Key,  there  issued 
forth  a  tinkling  sound,  so  merry  and  good-humored,  that  it 
suggested  the  idea  of  some  one  working  blithely,  and  made 
quite  pleasant  music." 

In  reading  this  sentence,  the  majority  of  persons  will 
emphasize  "  sound,"  but  tinkling  expresses  not  only  sound, 
but  tells  the  character  of  the  sound,  and  should  therefore  be 
emphasized.       "Tinkling,"    "blithely,"    and    "music,"  given 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  85 

with  proper  inflection  and  action,  will  express  more  than  any 
other  words  of  the  sentence. 

New  idea.  In  a  succession  of  ideas,  the  new  one  is  to  be 
emphasized  according  to  the  principle  above. 

" '  Tink,  tink  ! '  clear  as  a  silver  bell,  and  audible  at  every 
pause  of  the  street's  harsher  noises,  as  though  it  said,  '  I 
don't  care  ! '  "  To  emphasize  "noises,"  would  be  to  empha- 
size the  old  idea  included  in  "  tinkling."  The  idea  is  to  con- 
trast the  clear  bell  sound  with  the  harsh  sounds  of  the  street. 

Antithesis.  Antithetic  emphasis  is  placed  really  according 
to  the  principle  of  the  new  idea. 

Faults. —  1.  Emphasizing  too  many  words.  Where  all 
are  generals,  there  are  no  privates.  Emphasizing  every  word 
is  equal  to  emphasizing  none. 

2.  Emphasizing  words  at  regular  intervals  without  regard 
to  sense. 

3.  Placing  the  emphasis  on  unaccented  syllables. 

4.  Emphasizing  small  or  unimportant  words. 

5.  Emphasizing  words  at  random,  without  clearly  discern- 
ing the  thought. 

Practice.  —  1.  Get  command  over  the  power  to  place  the 
emphasis  on  any  word  at  will. 

2.  Analyze  what  you  are  to  read,  for  the  most  important 
word ;  (a)  by  separating  the  words  of  the  sentence,  (b)  by 
placing  the  emphasis  on  different  words  in  succession. 

3.  Clearly  think  your  thought,  then  utter  the  words  that 
convey  your  meaning  with  due  emphasis. 

The  Language  of  Inflected  Tones.  —  While  words  re- 
veal thought,  inflection  shows  how  that  thought  affects  the 
speaker.  It  is  the  language  of  emotion.  A  perfect  man 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  perfectly  expressing  himself.  Chil- 
dren are  generally  less  trammeled  than  men,  to  express  them- 
thoroughly  and  accurately  through  the  inflections. 

We  understand  inflection  to  be  the  slide  of  the  voice  from 
one  pitch  to  another. 


86         VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

"  Pitch  is  the  place  of  the  sound  in  the  musical  scale." 

Concrete  pitch  is  that  movement  of  sound  from  a  lower  to  a 
higher,  or  from  a  higher  to  a  lower  pitch,  without  any  break; 
it  is  accomplished  by  one  impulse  of  sound. 

Discrete  pitch  is  that  of  two  or  more  sounds  separated  from 
each#other.  If  the  finger  is  slid  down  the  string  of  the  violin 
while  the  bow  is  drawn  across,  we  have  a  sound  continuing 
from  one  pitch  to  another,  without  any  break  whatever ;  this 
is  a  concrete  pitch,  for  the  pitches  grow  together.  Now  if  the 
performer  change  his  finger  to  give  a  distinct  pitch  with  an 
interval  between,  we  have  a  discrete  pitch,  for  one  pitch  is  dis- 
tinguished hoxw  another. 

In  slides  we  use  concrete  pitch.  "High,"  "low,"  and 
"middle  "  pitch  refer  to  the  part  of  the  vocal  scale. 

In  a  succession  of  two  tones,  if  the  second  begins  a  tone 
above  the  beginning  of  the  first,  it  is  called  a  discrete  rising 
second ;  if  it  falls  below,  it  is  called  a  discrete  falling  second. 

According  to  the  interval  made,  we  have  a  discrete  rising 
second,  third,  fifth,  octave,  etc.,  if  the  voice  ascends  in  the 
scale ;  or  falling  second,  third,  etc.,  etc.,  if  it  falls  in  the  scale. 
The  voice  may  rise  or  fall  two  or  more  tones,  making  discrete 
intervals  of  only  a  tone,  thus  touching  every  tone  in  ascend- 
ing or  descending.  A  succession  of  tones  on  the  same  pitch 
is  a  monotone.  A  phrase  of  melody  is  an  alternating  set  of 
rising  or  falling  tones. 

Rising  Slides.* —  The  semitone.  Let  a  plaintive  or 
mournful  expression  be  given  to  the  following  sentence,  and 
it  will  exhibit  the  rising  semitone  on  the  "  I,"  and  the  falling 
semitone  on  "boy"  :  "  I  will  be  a  good  boy,"  answering  the 
question,  "Who  will  be  a  good  boy?  " 

Eising  slide  of  a  second.  Let  the  following  sentence  be  de- 
liberately and  clearly  uttered,  and  the  "I"  will  exhibit  the 


*  For  the  examples  on  the  slides  of  the  voice,  the  author  is  indebted  to 
Dr.  I'.arber's  "  Grammar  of  Elocution." 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  87 

rising  slide  of  a  second  :  "  As  soon  as  I  arrived,  he  conducted 
me  into  the  house."     It  is  the  suspensive  slide. 

Risi?ig  slide  of  a  third.  Let  the  following  question  be 
asked  in  a  natural  way,  expecting  the  answer  "Yes  "  or  "No  "  : 
"  Did  he  say  it  was  I  that  did  it  ?  "  This  will  illustrate  the 
rising  slide  of  a  third. 

Rising  slide  of  a  fifth.  Let  the  same  question  be  asked 
with  emphasis  and  emotion  :  "  Did  you  say  it  was  I  ?  "  This 
exhibits  the  intense  slide  of  the  fifth. 

Rising  slide  of  an  octave.  Let  the  emphasis  be  still  stronger 
and  the  question  more  piercing,  expressive  of  excessive  sur- 
prise, and  it  will  exhibit  the  more  intense  rising  slide  of  the 
octave  :  "  Did  you  say  it  was  /""  ?  Children  and  women  often 
ask  questions  with  this  intense  and  piercing  slide. 

Falling  Slides. — Falling  slide  of  a  second.  Let  the  fol- 
lowing sentence  be  uttered  in  a  natural,  easy  way,  without 
emphasis  on  the  "  I,"  supposing  Mr.  I  and  the  speaker  to  be 
on  equal  terms  :  "  Good  evening,  Mr.  I." 

Falling  slide  of  a  third.  Let  the  same  sentence  be  uttered, 
putting  "  I  "  in  antithesis  to  you  :  "  Good  evening,  Mr.  7." 

Falling  slide  of  a  fifth.  Let  the  same  be  uttered  with 
strong  emphasis  on  "  I,"  to  express  a  considerable  degree  of 
positiveness,  and  an  intense  downward  slide  of  a  fifth  will  be 
exhibited  :  "  He  said  it  was  I"  (not  you). 

Falling  slide  of  an  octave.  Now  let  the  highest  degree  of 
dictatorial  positiveness  and  energy  be  given  to  the  "  1,"  and 
it  may  reach  the  downward  octave  :  "  He  said  it  was  /" 

Circumflex  Slides.  — The  voice  may  not  only  ascend,  but 
also  descend,  upon  the  same  syllable.  This  movement  of  the 
voice  upon  a  syllable  is  called  a  circumflex. 

"If  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  voice  on  a  svllable  are  through 
the  same  interval,  it  is  called  an  equal  wave;  if  it  is  not  the 
same,  it  is  an  unequal  wave."  If  the  radical  or  first  part  rises, 
it  is  called  a  falling  circumflex  ;  if  it  falls,  a  rising  circumflex; 
if  it  rises  and  falls  and  rises  again,  it  is  a  rising  double  cir- 


88  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

cumflex  ;  if  it  falls  and  rises  and  falls  again,  it  is  a  falling 
double  circumflex. 

The  circumflex  is  a  second,  third,  fifth,  or  octave,  according 
to  the  interval  it  passes  through. 

Examples  illustrative  of  the  circumflex  slides.  "  Hail !  holy 
Light."  If  the  word  "hail"  is  uttered  with  extended  quan- 
tity, With  a  perceptible  downward  ending,  and  with  that  em- 
phasis only  which  arises  from  its  prolongation,  it  will  show 
the  falling  circumflex  of  a  second. 

"  High  on  a  throne  of  royal  state."  If  this  sentence  is 
uttered  with  long  quantity,  it  will  show  the  rising  circumflex 
of  the  second  on  the  syllables  "high,"  "throne,"  "roy." 

"  '  I  said  he  was  my  friend.'  If  this  sentence  be  deliber- 
ately uttered  with  very  long  quantity  upon  the  '  my,'  or  an 
exclusive  emphasis,  implying  that  the  person  spoken  of  was 
not  your  friend,"  that  word  will  show  the  falling  circumflex  of 
the  third.  If  the  answer  "  Your  friend  "  is  made  interrogatory, 
and  the  word  "your"  is  uttered  with  very  long  quantity,  with 
a  slight  degree  of  surprise,  it  will  show  the  rising  circumflex 
of  the  third.  "  If  the  sentence  is  reiterated,  '  I  said  he  was 
my  friend,'  with  a  strong  positive  emphasis  on  '  my  J  together 
with  a  very  long  quantity,"  the  falling  circumflex  of  the  fifth 
will  be  heard. 

By  increasing  the  emphasis  of  surprise,  and  making  the 
interrogation  more  piercing,  together  with  extended  quantity 
upon  the  word  "  your  "  in  the  sentence  "  Your  friend,"  accom- 
panied with  the  former  example,  the  rising  circumflex  of  the 
fifth  is  heard. 

'"I  said  he  was  my  friend.'  If  the  word  '  my '  is  uttered 
with  a  strongly  taunting,  and  at  the  same  time  positive  expres- 
sion, that  word  will  show  rising  unequal  circumflex.  If  the 
word  '  your  '  in  the  sentence  '  Your  friend,'  is  colored  strongly 
with  scorn  and  interrogation,  it  may  be  made  to  show  the  fall- 
ing unequal  wave." 

If  suspensive  quantity  with  a  plaintive  expression  is  put 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  89 

upon  the  words  "poor"  and  "old"  in  the  following  sentence, 
they  will  show  the  falling  circumflex  of  the  semitone.  "  Pity 
the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old  man."  The  word  "man  "  may  be 
made  to  display  the  rising  circumflex  of  the  semitone,  by 
making  it  plaintive,  with  long  quantity,  and  causing  the  voice 
to  fall  upon  the  second  part  of  the  wave. 

Principles  of  Inflection.  —  I.  The  rising  slide  is  pro- 
spective. 

While  the  emotions  are  going  on  and  out  to  their  goal,  the 
rising  inflection  is  used. 

II.  Rising  tones  appeal  :  — 

1.  To  bespeak  attention  to  something  that  follows,  as  com- 
pleting a  statement. 

2.  For  solution  of  doubt. 

3.  For  the  expression  of  the  hearer's  will,  as  in  response 
to  a  proposition. 

4.  To  question  the  possibilities  of  an  assertion,  as  in  sur- 
prise. 

III.  The  falling  slide  is  retrospective. 

When  the  emotions  have  reached  their  goal  they  rest ;  the 
falling  slide  is  used. 

Falling  tones  assert :  — 

1.  To  express  completion  of  statement. 

2.  To  express  conviction. 

3.  To  express  the  speaker's  will,  as  in  command. 

4.  To  express  impossibility  of  denial.  Rising  tones  are 
deferential.     Falling  tones  are  peremptory. 

IV.  The  circumflexes  are  compound  in  their  meaning,  par- 
taking of  the  character  of  the  rising  and  falling  or  of  the  fall- 
ing and  rising  tone  •  these,  then,  are  querulous-assertive  or 
assertive  querulous. 

Circumflexes  partaking  of  the  nature  both  of  the  rising  and 
falling  slide  are  used,  — 

1.  When  the  emotions  are  unsettled,  as  in  mental  per- 
plexity. 


90  VOCAL   CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

2.  In  double  meanings,  as  in  sarcasm,  scorn,  etc. 

3.  In  conscious  insincerity,  as  when  a  man  of  trade  rec~ 
ommends  for  purchase  some  article  with  concealed  defect. 
His  conscience  and  will  opposing  each  other,  puts  the  circum- 
flex in  the  voice. 

4.  In  wheedling  and  flattery ;  there  is  insincerity,  too,  in 
this. 

5.  In  compliment,  as  when  you  wish  to  praise  a  boy  for 
some  not  very  important  but  commendable  deed ;  or  when 
you  wish  to  make  people  feel  comfortable. 

V.  Monotone.  Monotone  is  reflective.  It  expresses  the 
moral  states  ;  it  suggests  grandeur,  awfulness,  sublimity ;  it 
is  the  tone  man  should  use  in  addressing  the  Deity. 

VI.  Semitone.     Semitone  is  used  in  grief,  sorrow,  etc. 

Faults.  —  1.  Habitual  rising  slides.  These  keep  the  audi- 
ence in  continual  suspense  ;  they  find  no  rest.  We  have 
heard  ministers  who  closed  positively  constructed  sentences 
with  the  upward  slide,  in  the  majority  of  cases. 

2.  Habitual  downward  slides.  These  are  tiresome  ;  for  the 
listening  mind  instinctively  rests  at  the  downward  slide,  when 
lo  !  it  must  up  and  on,  for  the  thought  is  not  completed.  Such 
delivery  is  humdrum  and  tiresome  in  the  extreme. 

3.  Habitual  circumflex.  This  inflection  lacks  force  and 
dignity. 

4.  The  recurring  cadence  given  in  regular  succession,  pro- 
ducing what  is  called  "sing-song." 

5.  Placing  the  inflection  on  the  unaccented  syllable. 

6.  Beginning  the  rising  inflection  too  high,  the  falling, 
too  low. 

Practice. —  1.  Use  the  exercises  as  given  under  "  Flexi- 
bility," in  Chapter  V. 

2.  Think  the  thought,  let  the  emotion  grow  out  of  it,  but 
feel  genuinely  the  truth  of  what  you  have  to  read  or  speak. 

3.  Train  the  ear  to  detect  the  various  slides. 

4.  Be  able  to  give  the  slides  at  will. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  91 

5.  Guard  against  the  faults  enumerated  above. 

6.  Practise  the  rising  and  then  the  falling  slides  of  the 
second,  third,  fifth,  and  octave  upon  the  following  elements, 
taking  care  to  educate  the  ear  to  distinguish  the  effect :  — 

a  a  00 

a         o  i         e 

7.  Make  the  circumflexes  on  these. 

8.  Sing  these  intervals. 

9.  Try  to  express  the  emotion  of  the  piece,  using  only  the 
vowels  of  the  accented  syllables,  as  :  — 

a     o       a  a  go  eii 

"  That  you  have  wronged  me  doth  appear  in  this." 

The  pitch  here  constantly  becomes  higher. 


Falling  Inflection :  — 

1.  To  arms  !  To  arms  !    Ye  brave  ! 
The  avenging  sword  unsheathe  ! 
March  on,  march  on,  all  hearts  resolved 
On  victory  or  death. 

2.  Hence  !  home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home  1 

You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things. 

Begone ! 

Run  to  your  houses,  fall  upon  your  knees, 

Pray  to  the  gods  to  intermit  the  plague, 

That  needs  must  light  on  this  ingratitude. 

3      Come  to  the  house  of  prayer, 
( >  thou  afflicted,  com    I 
The  God  of  peace  shall  meet  thee  there, 
He  makes  that  house  his  home. 


92  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

Rising  Inflection,     i.  Cicero's  accusation  of  Verres  :  — 

Is  it  come  to  this  ?  Shall  an  inferior  magistrate,  a  governor,  who  holds 
his  whole  power  of  the  Roman  people,  in  a  Roman  province,  within  sight 
of  Italy,  hind,  scourge,  torture  with  fire  and  red-hot  plates  of  iron,  and  at 
last  put  to  the  infamous  death  of  the  cross,  a  Roman  citizen? 

2.     Must  I  budge,  must  I  observe  you? 

Must  I  stand  and  crouch  under  your  testy  humor? 

Rising  and  Falling :  — 

i.     Tread  softly,  bow  the  head, 

In  reverent  silence,  bow; 
No  passing  bell  doth  toll, 
Yet  an  immortal  soul 

Is  passing  now. 

2.     Stand  !     The  ground  's  your  own,  my  braves  1 
Will  you  give  it  up  to  slaves  ? 
Do  you  look  for  greener  graves  ? 
Hope  you  mercy  still  ? 

3.  Can  honor  set  a  leg?  No!  Or  an  arm  ?  No!  Or  take  away  the 
grief  of  a  wound?  No!  Honor  hath  no  skill  in  surgery  then?  No! 
What  is  honor?  A  word.  What  is  that  word,  honor ?  Air.  Who  hath 
it?  He  that  died  on  Wednesday.  Doth  he  feel  it  ?  No!  Doth  he  hear 
it?  No!  Is  it  insensible,  then?  Yes,  to  the  dead.  But  will  it  not  live 
with  the  living?     No!     Why?     Detraction  will  not  suffer  it. 

Minor  Rising  Itiflection  :  — 

1.     Oh  !  pardon  me,  thou  bleeding  piece  of  earth, 
That  I  am  meek  and  gentle  with  these  butchers. 

2.     Give  me  three  grains  of  corn,  mother, 
Only  three  grains  of  corn. 

Mifior  .Falling  Inflection  ;  — 

1.  O  my  son  Absalom!  my  son,  my  son  Absalom!  would  God  I  had 
died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son ! 

2.     OI  have  lost  you  all, 

Parents,  and  home,  and  friends. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  93 

Circumflex  Inflections :  — 

1.     What,  sir!  feed  a  child's  body,  and  let  his  soul  go  hungry!  pamper 
his  limbs,  and  starve  his  faculties  ? 

2.     What  should  I  say  to  you?     Should  I  not  say, 
Hath  a  dog  money  ?     Is  it  possible 
A  cur  can  lend  three  thousand  ducats? 

3.  There  was  in  our  town,  a  certain  Tom-ne'er-do-well,  an  honest  fellow, 
who  was  brought  to  ruin  by  readily  crediting  that  "care  will  kill  a  cat." 
Poor  fellow!  he  never  considered  that  he  was  not  a  cat ;  and  accordingly, 
he  made  it  a  point  not  to  care  for  anything.  He  did  not  care  for  his 
father's  displeasure,  and  he  was  disinherited.  He  did  not  care  for  money, 
and  he  was  always  distressed.  And  lastly,  he  did  not  care  for  himself, 
and  he  died  in  the  workhouse. 

Monotone :  — 

1.  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  of  Sabbaoth. 

2.  And  I  heard  a  voice  saying  unto  me,  write,  etc. 


94  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


r 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

MELODY    OF    DISCOURSE. 


Narration,  negation,  affirmation,  every  passion  and  emo- 
tion, has  its  own  peculiar  melody.  Without  understanding  the 
words  spoken,  we  can  tell  whether  the  untrammeled  person 
speaks  in  anger  or  complacency,  whether  in  joy  or  grief,  by 
the  melody  of  his  speech. 

The  stronger  and  more  pronounced  emotions  usually  ex- 
press themselves  naturally  in  their  own  melody;  but  all  the 
emotions  are  not  controlling.  Many  speakers  utter  the  most 
benevolent  emotions  in  the  most  discordant  fashion  ;  others, 
again,  express  the  language  of  anger  in  the  tamest  manner. 

Speech  is  characterized  by  variety  in  pitch  (radical  pitch 
and  inflection),  time,  force,  movement,  accent,  quantity,  stress. 

Discrete  pitch.  Discrete  pitch,  previously  discussed  under 
inflection,  is  made  by  a  different  impulse  of  the  voice  for  the 
different  pitches.  It  makes  the  intervals  distinct,  and  gives 
variety  to  the  utterance. 

Melody  arising  from  difference  in  discrete  pitch.  Such  is  the 
demand  of  the  ear  for  variety,  that  if  three  syllables  be  uttered 
upon  the  same  pitch  the  effect  is  monotonous. 

Simple  melody.  In  plain,  unemotional  narrative  the  dis- 
crete pitch  of  the  discourse  seldom  moves  from  word  to  word 
by  more  than  a  tone.  The  slides  also  usually  make  intervals 
of  only  a  tone.  Although  the  proximate  syllables  may  differ 
by  only  a  tone,  yet  this  melody  admits  of  a  great  variety  of 
combinations;  for  the  last  syllable  of  a  sentence  might  pos- 
sibly be  a  whole  octave  above  or  below  the  starting-point,  hav- 
ing made  a  variety  of  melodious  phrases  in  the  mean  time. 


VOCAL   EXPRESSION.  95 

No  prescribed  order  of  these  intervals  can  be  written  out. 
They  must  depend  upon  the  mental  and  emotional  attitude  of 
the  reader  or  speaker.  If  the  mind  is  not  constrained,  and  is 
keenly  alive,  there  will  be  variety  enough  to  prevent  dulness. 
The  extemporaneous  speaker  will  usually  be  more  free  from 
this  fault  of  sameness.  Readers  and  speakers  from  manu- 
script will  have  to  be  more  watchful.  Care  must  be  taken  by 
all,  to  avoid  falling  into  the  rut  of  a  single  emotion. 

Strong  emotion,  violent  passion,  and  intense  mentality  ex- 
press themselves  by  wider  intervals. 

Pitch  is  called  high,  medium,  and  low,  according  to  the 
range  of  pitch  used. 

i.     High  pitch  suitably  expresses  joyousness,  etc. 

2.  Medium  pitch  is  used  in  unemotional  discourse. 

3.  Low  pitch  is  employed  in  seriousness,  etc. 
Cadence.     Cadence  is  the  discrete  fall  of  the  voice  in  pitch, 

in  closing  a  sentence  not  interrogatory.  Variety,  to  satisfy 
the  ear  and  to  complete  the  sense,  depends  measurably  upon 
the  manner  of  closing  a  sentence,  as  well  as  upon  the  variety 
of  pitch  during  the  progress  of  the  utterance. 

Cadence  properly  includes  two  other  syllables,  preparatory 
to  the  last  one,  and  is  necessary  to  distinctly  separate  the  dif- 
ferent ideas  of  discourse.  In  simple  thought,  not  interrogative, 
emphatical,  or  emotional,  the  following  cadences  are  used  :  the 
cadence  of  three  syllables  separates  ideas  most,  the  cadence 
of  two  less  (this  is  the  best  ending  for  plain  thought),  and 
that  of  a  single  one.  the  least.  The  voice  must  slide  down  a 
tone  on  the  final  syllable  of  a  cadence,  but  upon  the  others  it 
may  slide  either  up  or  down,  and  with  longer  intervals. 

Faults. — Faults  of  pitch.  Speaking  on  too  high  or  too 
low  a  pitch.     This  fault  was  discussed  under  "  Inflection." 

In  simple  melody  the  most  common  fault  is  sameness,  result- 
ing from  unvaried  discrete  pitch.  Sometimes  many  words  are 
spoken  on  the  same  pitch.  This  is  the  real  "monotone.'' 
Akin  to  it  is  the  habit  of  employing  the  same  two  or  three 


96  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

intervals  over  and  over  again,  producing  another  kind  of 
"  monotone,"  so  called. 

Improper  use  of  semitone.  Unless  called  for  by  strong 
expression  of  mournful  feeling,  the  use  of  the  semitone  gives 
an  undignified,  hypocritical  whine.  This  fault  is  most  fre- 
quently found  in  the  pulpit.      iC  I  pray  you  avoid  it." 

In  pausal  melody.  —  Want  of  cadence.  The  repose  of 
the  cadence  is  grateful  to  the  ear.  Some  speakers  never 
make  a  cadence,  and  the  listener,  kept  in  anticipation  all  the 
time,  must  look  up  to  find  out  when  the  speaker  is  through,  as 
the  voice  gives  no  indication. 

Feeble  ending,  resulting  from  an  imperfect  cadence,  and 
expending  all  the  force  before  the  close.  Be  careful  not  to 
let  the  voice  get  so  low  in  pitch  as  to  prevent  a  strong  ending 
on  the  last  words. 

False  cadence,  resulting  from  the  voice  falling  discretely  on 
the  last  syllable  more  than  one  tone. 

A  recurring  pausal  melody  produces  another  kind  of  monot- 
ony, called  "  sing-song."  The  ear  anticipates  this  melody,  and 
expects  it  at  certain  intervals.  One  must  be  careful  to  avoid 
this  fault  in  reading  metrical  composition  ;  for  the  recurrence 
of  the  measure,  or  sound  in  rhyme,  especially  invites  this  fault. 

Again,  the  style  of  some  speakers  in  the  construction  of 
sentences  invites  recurring  melody. 

The  following,  quoted  by  Dr.  Barber  from  Dr.  Johnson,  is 
a  striking  example  of  this  faulty  style  :  — 

"  Homer  was  the  greater  genius,  Virgil,  the  better  artist.  In  the  one, 
we  most  admire  the  man  ;  in  the  other,  the  work.  Homer  hurries  us 
with  a  commanding  impetuosity;  Virgil  leads  us  with  an  attractive 
majesty.  Homer  scatters  with  a  generous  profusion ;  Virgil  bestows 
with  a  careful  magnificence." 

Some  speakers  fall  into  this  melody  as  a  trick  of  voice,  and 
sometimes,  it  seems,  because  it  is  easier  to  give  than  another, 
as  an  old  song  is  easier  to  sing  than  a  new  one.  Monotony 
at  the  close  of  the  sentence  is  especially  noticeable. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION  97 

Practice.  —  z.     Analyze  the  sense  of  the  author. 

2.  In  style,  construct  the  sentences  so  that  the  formal 
recurrence  of  similar  clauses  and  sentences  may  not  lead  to 
the  repetition  of  the  same  phrase  of  melody. 

3.  If  the  reader  or  speaker  clearly  and  deliberately  thinks 
the  thought,  and  appreciates  the  full  significance  of  the  lan- 
guage used,  he  will  help  himself  largely  to  a  correct  use  of 
pitch,  slides,  and  cadence. 

4.  Let  the  voice  range  about  its  middle  pitch. 

5.  Train  the  ear  to  detect  monotony,  recurring  melody, 
feeble  endings,  and  avoid  them. 

6.  Keep  the  mind  free  from  constraint ;  avoid  drifting  on 
one  emotion. 

Measure  of  Speech. — Accent.  In  the  production  of  all 
immediately  consecutive  sounds,  the  voice  acts  by  alternating 
pulsation  and  remission.  Two  heavy,  or  accented,  syllables 
cannot  be  uttered  in  immediate  succession  by  a  single  vocal 
impulse.  The  word  "kingdom''  can  be  uttered  by  a  single 
effort  of  voice,  consisting  as  it  does  of  an  accented  and  an 
unaccented  syllable ;  but  "  king,  king,"  requires  two  efforts 
with  an  appreciable  hiatus  or  pause  between  them. 

Accent  is  the  property  of  syllables  ;  its  use  is  familiar  to 
all.  The  accent  on  short  syllables  is  the  effect  of  increased 
force  ;  on  long  syllables  it  is  the  effect  of  time  and  force. 
y —  Measure.  —  A  perfect  measure  in  speech  consists  of  one 
'  or  any  greater  number  of  syllables,  not  exceeding  five,  uttered 
during  one  pulsation  and  remission  of  voice.  Syllables  of 
long  quantity  may  form  a  measure ;  those  of  short  quantity 
cannot. 

jProse,  as  well  as  metrical  composition,  may  be  constructed 
with  reference  to  the  number  of  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables  in  a  sentence. 

Every  measure,  in  speech  as  in  music,  should  occupy  the 
same  time  in  utterance.  The  imperfect  bars  would  then 
require  silence  to  take  the  time  not  occupied  with  the  syllable 

7 


98 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


or  syllables.     This  gives  an  easy  and  effective  delivery,  and 
allows  ample  time  for  breathing  without  breaking  the  sense. 

The  bar  is  employed  to  separate  one  measure  from 
another.  A  measure  with  one  syllable,  of  course,  indicates 
slow  movement,  while  a  measure  with  four  or  five  syllables 
indicates  rapid  movement.  The  mark  P  indicates  pause ; 
a,  the  accented  syllable;  u,  the  unaccented. 


Rocks                  P 

Caves               P 

a     u 

a     11 

fens                      P 

bogs                 P 

a     u 

a     u 

dews  and 

shades  of 

a    u 

a     u 

P              A 

universe   of 

a              u 

a     u     u 

lakes 


.;     u 


death 
a    u 


death 
a     u 


The  rest  in  the  above  measures  occupies  the  time  of  the 
word  "  and." 

The  pause  is  very  essential  to  easy  delivery,  and  to  the 
sense. 

Again,  breathing  must  still  be  carried  on  in  speech. 
Natural  breathing  is  rhythmical,  suggesting  that  the  same 
may  be  most  economically  accomplished  by  rhythmical  breath- 
ing during  speech ;  then  the  beating  of  the  heart,  sending 
blood  to  the  lungs  for  purification,  the  action  of  the  lungs, 
and  the  production  of  voice  are  in  harmony,  and,  of  course, 
friction  is  avoided.  The  speaker  who  neglects  accent,  as 
related  to  melody  and  pause,  labors  hard  in  delivery,  and 
wearies  himself  unnecessarily. 

"  All  persons  who  speak  agreeably  and  smoothly,  speak  for 
the  most  part  by  measure."  Solely  on  the  ground  of  ease  in 
delivery,  every  speaker  should  studiously  regard  measure  in 
speaking. 


VOCAL   EXPRESSION.  99 

Quantity.  Quantity,  or  the  time  occupied  in  uttering  the 
vowels  of  any  syllable,  is  closely  connected  with  measure  of 
speech.  Some  syllables  are  naturally  long,  others  naturally 
short,  depending  upon  the  quantity  of  the  vowel  of  the 
syllable. 

In  uttering  "a,"  a  full  sound  at  the  beginning,  succeeded  by 
a  vanishing  effect,  will  be  perceived  by  the  ear.  Prolonged, 
the  sound  will  be  found  to  be  a  compound  or  diphthong  tone. 
a  =  a-|-e;  I  =  I  -f-  e  ;  0  =  o-(-oo;  u  =  u  +  00;  e  = 
e  -f-  ee.      e,  ii,  a  are  naturally  short. 

Long  quantity  in  speech  produces  the  effect  of  smooth  de- 
livery, and  enables  one  to  fill  out  a  measure  without  rest,  in 
slow  and  dignified  utterance. 

Vowels  naturally  long,  when  given  in  short  quantity  are 
harsh  and  jarring. 

Faults.  —  1.  Lack  of  full  quantity  on  the  long  vowels. 
This  breaks  the  measure,  and  makes  the  delivery  difficult. 

2.  Hastening  on  with  no  pauses  to  separate  the  ideas  dis- 
tinctly. Grammatical  punctuation  does  not  indicate  the  only 
pauses. 

3.  Pausing  at  regular  intervals  without  reference  to  sense. 
Regularly  pausing  at  the  end  of  each  verse  [line]  of  poetry. 

4.  Accompanying  faults  1  and  2  is  the  destructive  habit  of 
running  out  of  breath. 

Practice.  —  1.  Give  long  quantity  to  the  proper  vowels 
on  separate  words.  Select  words  of  many  syllables,  and  pro- 
nounce them  deliberately,  bringing  out  every  syllable. 

2.  The  same  in  reading  or  speaking,  with  reference  to 
pauses. 

3.  Seek  pauses,  without  breaking  the  expression,  for  the 
purpose  of  breathing. 

Stress.  —  Stress  is  the  application  of  force  to  vocal  tone. 
Dr.  Rush  was  the  first  to  analyze  this  quality  in  speech. 

An  explosive  force  at  the  beginning  of  a  syllable  is  called 
Radical  Stress]  represented  to  the  eye  by  (»  "  ARM,  "  ARM." 


IOO  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

It  is  used  to  express  vehemence,  strength  of  will,  and  pas- 
sion.    Dignified  and  clear  utterance  requires  its  use. 

"  Up  drawbridge,  grooms  !  What,  warder,  ho  ! 
Let  the  portcullis  fall." 

Median  stress  (O)  may  be  compared  to  the  musical  swell. 
It  is  used  to  express  tranquil  and  fervent  emotion.  It  is 
smooth  and  continuous,  and  is  adapted  to  poetic  expression. 
A  degree  of  this  stress  is  one  distinction  between  the  voice 
of  a  man  of  culture  and  a  boor.  This  stress  makes  special 
use  of  long  quantity.     "  O  GOLDEN  hour." 

"  Father,  thy  hand 
Hath  reared  these  venerable  columns  ;  thou 
Didst  weave  this  verdant  roof;  thou  didst  look  down 
Upon  the  naked  earth,  and  forthwith  rose 
All  these  fair  ranks  of  trees.     They,  in  thy  sun, 
Budded  and  shook  their  green  leaves  in  the  breeze, 
And  shot  toward  heaven." 

Terminal stress  (^)  places  the  force  on  the  final  part  of 
the  tone.  A  growl,  ending  in  explosion,  illustrates  this  quality 
of  voice.  This  quality  suitably  expresses  stubborn  passion, 
scorn,  contradiction.  It  brings  the  diaphragm  into  unusual 
action.     "  I  SCOFF  you." 

"  Speak  of  Mortimer ! 
Zounds,  I  will  speak  of  him  ;  and  let  my  soul 
Want  mercy,  if  I  do  not  join  with  him. 
He  said  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer; 
Forbade  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer." 

Compound  stress  O^)  unites  the  radical  and  terminal 
stress.  It  is  used  to  express  contending  emotions,  as  in  sar- 
casm, contempt.  It  usually  accompanies  circumflex  inflection. 
"  Hath  a  clog  money  ?  " 

Thorough  stress  (=         )  is  the  full  sustained  force.     It  is 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  IOI 

used  in  shouting  and  calling.  The  boor  speaks  with  thorough 
stress.  Its  legitimate  use  in  expression  is  limited.  "  Boat 
ahoy  !    Boat  ahoy  !  " 

Intermitte?it  stress  (^^^)  is  the  tremor  of  the  voice.  It 
is  characteristic  of  feebleness,  old  age,  grief.  It  may  be  used 
in  pathetic  utterance.  Used  excessively  it  greatly  mars  de- 
livery. 

"  Pity  the  sorrows  of  a  poor  old  man, 
Whose  trembling  limbs  have  borne  him  to  your  door." 

"  What !  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 
Then  get  thee  gone,  and  dig  my  grave  thyself; 
And  bid  the  merry  bells  ring  to  thine  ear, 
That  thou  art  crowned,  not  that  I  am  dead. 
Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse 
Be  drops  of  balm  to  sanctify  thy  head." 

Faults.  —  i.     Lack  of  median  stress. 

2.  Capricious  use  of  the  several  kinds  of  stress,  without 
due  reference  to  expressiveness. 

3.  Faulty  use  of  the  intermittent  stress  ;  trying  to  put  pathos, 
solemnity,  seriousness,  in  the  voice  by  employing  tremolo.  This 
is  a  weakness  very  common  to  the  pulpit. 

Practice.  —  1.  For  facility  in  use,  practice  the  several 
kinds  of  stress. 

2.  Feel  deeply  the  truth  to  be  uttered. 

3.  Use  the  appropriate  stress  in  the  light  of  the  above 
instruction. 

Force.  —  Force,  as  applied  in  stress,  is  quite  distinct  from 
its  application  in  the  various  degrees  of  loudness.  The  ap- 
plication of  force  in  stress  has  respect  to  the  way  in  which  a 
tone  is  opened,  continued,  or  closed.  Any  stress  may  possi- 
bly be  given  with  loud  or  gentle  force. 

The  degree  of  force,  loudness,  depends  upon  (a)  the  num- 
ber of  persons  to  be  addressed,  (b)  the  character  of  the  emo- 
tion to  be  expressed.  The  following  caution  is  to  be  ob- 
served :  — 


102        VOCAL  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

i.  The  speaker  is  not  necessarily  heard  because  he  shouts. 
The  carrying  quality  of  voice  depends  first  upon  its  purity  and 
articulation.  Shouting  sometimes  prevents  one  from  being 
understood. 

2.  The  strongest  bawling  and  declamation  does  not  express 
the  deepest  emotion.     Vociferation  is  loud,  but  empty. 

Gentle  Force  is  suitable  to  express  chaste  emotion,  plain 
thought,  etc. 

"Around  this  lovely  valley  rise 
The  purple  hills  of  Paradise. 
Oh,  softly  on  yon  banks  of  haze 
Her  rosy  face  the  summer  lays ! 
Becalmed  along  the  azure  sky, 
The  argosies  of  cloudland  lie, 
Whose  shores,  with  many  a  shining  rift, 
Far  off  their  pearl-white  peaks  uplift." 

Moderate  Force  expresses  ordinary  discourse  and  lively 
interest. 

"Jesus  answered,  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world.  If  my 
kingdom  were  of  this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight, 
that  I  should  not  be  delivered  to  the  Jews  ;  but  now  is  my 
kingdom  not  from  hence." 

Loud  Force.  —  This  is  used  in  stronger  emotion,  suitable 
in  parliamentary  discussion,  etc. 

"How  far,  O  Catiline,  wilt  thou  abuse  our  patience?  How 
long  shalt  thou  baffle  justice  in  thy  mad  career?  To  what  ex- 
treme wilt  thou  carry  thy  audacity  ?  Art  thou  nothing  daunted 
by  the  nightly  watch  posted  to  secure  the  Palatium  ?  Nothing, 
by  the  city  guards  ?  Nothing,  by  the  rally  of  all  good  citi- 
zens ?  Nothing,  by  the  assembling  of  the  Senate  in  this  for- 
tified place  ?  Nothing,  by  the  averted  looks  of  all  here 
present  ? " 

Very  Loud  Force.  —  This  expresses  strong  emotion. 

"  Follow  your  spirits,  and,  upon  this  charge, 
Cry,  Heaven  for  Harry!  England  and  St.  George!" 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  IO3 

Faults.  —  1.  Lack  of  energy  in  delivery,  feeble  enuncia- 
tion, suggesting  feebleness  of  mental  action.  Sometimes  it 
indicates  downright  laziness. 

2.  Uncalled-for  declamation,  shouting,  suggesting  the 
effort  to  pass  off  noise  for  sense.  Abuse  of  throat  usually 
accompanies  this  vicious  delivery. 

3.  Spasmodic  application  of  force,  without  reference  to 
fitness,  at  times  a  careless  mumble,  and  again  loud,  as  if  the 
speaker  was  suddenly  awakened  out  of  a  reverie. 

Practice. —  1.  Take  into  consideration  the  character  of 
what  you  are  delivering.     Vary  the  force  to  suit. 

2.  Avoid  feebleness,  avoid  shouting;  make  the  sound 
smooth  and  full ;  endeavor  to  make  the  tones  carry,  with  as 
little  expenditure  of  force  as  possible.  There  should  be  no 
unpleasant  reaction  as  to  the  feeling  of  the  throat  after 
speaking.     This  is  always  a  sign  of  misuse. 

Movement.  —  The  rates  of  movement  in  discourse  are 
as  follows  :-  — 

1.  Quick  rate. — This  expresses  (a)  rapid  movement 
through  space  ;  (f)  joyful  or  intense  emotion ;  (V)  suggests 
lightness,  etc. 

Moderate  rate  is  used  in  simple  narrative  or  didactic 
delivery. 

Slow  rate  suitably  expresses  weighty,  dignified  matter, 
profound  emotions,  slow  movement  through  space,  etc. 

Very  slow  rate  is  to  express  solemn  and  very  weighty 
matter;  labored,  tedious  motion. 

Faults.  —  1 .  Utterance  too  rapid  to  be  distinctly  under- 
stood, and  tiresome  to  the  audience.  Of  course  the  rate  of 
utterance  varies  with  the  temperament  of  the  individual,  but 
parts  may  be  relatively  fast  or  slow. 

2.  Dull,  slow  rate,  dragging  along  on  the  final  syllable,  and 
sometimes  adding  an  "ugh."  This  is  miserable.  No  audi- 
ence can  resist  its  bad  effects,  unless  the  speaker  is  tossing 
them  diamonds. 


104  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

3.  Lack  of  variety  in  the  discourse.  The  speaker  rushes 
along  in  a  tiresome  fluency  or  incessant  loquaciousness,  usu- 
ally skipping  all  pauses.  Fluency  is  not  eloquence.  Again 
the  speaker  may  trudge  along  at  a  dull,  monotonous  pace, 
not  having  one  spot  of  briskness. 

Practice.  —  Endeavor  to  achieve  facility  in  the  most  rapid 
utterance.  Take  care  not  to  sacrifice  distinct  articulation  to 
rate  of  movement. 

2.  Practise  slow,  deliberate  movements.  Make  the  time 
on  quantity,  not  between  words.  Persons  with  impetuous 
rate  should  studiously  practise  slow  rate.  Persons  with  slow 
rate  should  spur  themselves  to  quick  rate. 

Qualities  of  Voice  in  Use.  —  Pure  to?ie.  This  is  the 
clear  quality  free  from  breathiness,  etc.  It  is  used  to  express 
plain  thought  and  agreeable  emotion,  also  sadness  or  grief, 
when  not  mingled  with  solemnity. 

"  Ye  bells  in  the  steeple,  ring,  ring  out  your  changes, 
How  many  soever  they  be, 
And  let  the  brown  meadow  lark's  note  as  he  ranges, 
Come  over,  come  over  to  me." 

Full  tone.  —  This  is  the  deep,  large  quality  variously 
called  the  "orotund,"  the  "pulmonic,"  etc.  It  is  used  to 
express  grandeur,  vastness,  sublimity,  etc. 

"  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean,  roll  ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain." 

Aspirate  tone. — This  does  not  make  all  the  breath  up 
into  voice,  and  is  therefore  not  pure. 

In  rare  instances  it  degenerates  into  a  whisper.  This  qual- 
ity expresses  secrecy,  darkness,  indefiniteness,  fervor,  moral 
impurity. 

Macbeth.     Didst  thou  not  hear  a  noise  ? 

Lady  M.     I  heard  the  owl  scream,  and  the  crickets  cry.     Did  not  you 

speak  ? 
Macbeth.     When  ? 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  IO5 

Lady  M.  Now. 

Macbeth.  As  I  descended? 

Lady  M,  Ay. 

Macbeth.  Hark  !    Who  lies  i'  the  second  chamber  ? 

Lady  M.  Donalbain. 

Guttural  tone.  —  This  is  the  vicious  quality  of  voice 
formed  in  the  throat.  It  is  sometimes  called  into  use  in 
dramatic  execution,  as  in  expressing  malevolence,  passions, 
utter  disgust,  etc. 

Faults  and  Practice. —  i.  Avoid  the  habitual  use  of 
any  one  quality. 

2.  The  guttural  and  aspirated  qualities  are  less  frequently 
used.  They  were  previously  enumerated  as  faults,  but  are 
sometimes  appropriately  employed  in  expression.  As  a  habit, 
they  are  serious  defects. 

3.  Practise  to  command  the  several  kinds  of  voice. 

4.  Employ  the  voice  that  suitably  expresses  the  matter. 
Phrasing  or  Grouping.  —  The  function  of  phrasing  is  to 

unite  the  related  parts  of  discourse,  to  separate  the  unrelated, 
to  give  prominence  to  the  most  important,  and  to  cast  other 
parts  into  shade. 

The  lack  of  inflectional  forms  in  English,  together  with  the 
inversions  of  style,  parenthetical  and  expletive  clauses,  etc., 
render  it  necessary  to  indicate  by  the  voice  the  relation  and 
importance  of  the  different  parts  of  the  sentence. 

The  means  of  phrasing  are  pause,  pitch,  and  rate  of  utterance. 

In  this  connection,  we  think  it  profitable  to  give  only  one 
or  two  leading  points  in  this  part  of  analysis,  without  endeav- 
oring to  study  the  unending  variety  of  related  parts  in  con- 
struction. 

The  principal  parts  of  a  sentence,  however  far  they  may  be 
separated  by  intermediate  matter,  must  be  plainly  indicated. 

This  may  be  done  usually  by  emphasis,  and  by  placing 
these  related  parts  on  the  same  pitch. 

Parenthetical    expressions,    intermediate     matter    between 


106  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

the  essential  parts  of  a  sentence,  and,  usually,  relative  clauses, 
are  to  be  subordinated  by  reading  on  a  lower  pitch  with 
increased  rate  of  utterance.  Occasionally,  the  rate  is  slower 
for  impressiveness. 

The  old  idea  in  current  discourse  is  to  be  slurred  also. 

"  When,  therefore,  the  Lord  knew  how  the  Pharisees  had  heard  that 
Jesus  made  and  baptized  more  disciples  than  John  {(hough  Jesus  himself 
baptized  not,  but  his  disciples),  he  left  Judea,  and  departed  again  into 
Galilee." 

"JOSEPH,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  field  at  the  time,  SAW  the  carriage 
approach,  and  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  hastened  to  meet  it." 

The  parts  in  small  capitals  in  the  above  examples  are  to  be 
related  by  pitch  and  emphasis,  just  as  though  the  direct  cur- 
rent had  not  been  crossed  by  other  streams.  The  words  in 
italics  are  to  be  given  on  a  lower  pitch,  and  in  more  rapid 
movement.  These  are,  of  course,  expressions  of  the  strong- 
est contrast.  The  finer  shades  of  relation  must  first  be 
clearly  distinguished  by  the  mind,  and  then  the  organs  of 
expression  must  be  trusted  to  render  them. 

Faults.  —  i.  Too  frequently  allowing  the  voice  to  make 
a  cadence  where  the  thought  is  not  completed. 

2.  Uttering  parenthetical  matter  on  the  same  pitch,  and  at 
the  same  rate  as  the  direct  current  of  thought. 

3.  Emphasizing  the  old  idea. 

Practice.  —  1.  Construct  the  language  so  that  the  related 
parts  may  not  be  so  complicated  as  to  make  it  difficult  to 
express  them  vocally. 

2.  Carefully  study  the  writing  in  the  light  of  emphasis,  as 
well  as  grouping. 

3.  Practise  reading  complex  and  compound  sentences, 
separating  the  principal  parts  and  reading  them,  then  adding 
the  subordinate  parts,  and  reading  them  in  construction  with 
the  whole  sentence. 

Climax.  —  There  is  an  oral  as  well  as  a  rhetorical  climax. 
There  is  a  climax  of  the  discburse  as  a  whole,  a  climax  of 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  IO7 

sentences  and  parts  of  sentences,  to  be  taken  into  account  in 
deliver}-. 

The  speaker  should  not  break  out  abruptly  into  a  full 
vocal  effort  at  the  beginning  of  his  discourse,  but  gradually 
rise  as  the  matter  increases  in  importance. 

The  climax  of  vocal  effort  is  parallel  to  rhetorical  climax. 

The  first  clause  should  be  uttered  so  as  to  prepare  for  the 
second,  the  second  for  the  third,  etc.,  increasing  in  interest 
and  importance,  till  the  highest  point  of  thought  and  emotion 
is  reached. 

Climax  in  discourses  or  sentences  naturally  comes  before 
the  very  end. 

The  most  obvious  elements  in  making  vocal  climax  are 
rise  in  discrete  pitch  and  increased  force. 

Faults.  —  1.  Uttering  the  different  parts  of  a  discourse 
or  sentence  on  the  same  level  of  interest. 

2.     Applying  pitch  and  force  at  random. 

Practice.  —  1.  Construct  sentences  with  reference  to 
oral  climax.     (See  Rhetoric.) 

2.     Find  the  highest  point;  rise  to  it  in  pitch  and  force. 

roar 
and 
devil  cuine  for 

If  the  them, 

not 
I  will  send 

them. 

not 
arms, 

arts,  or  was  ambitious  ? 

letters, 
great  in  who 

achieved  anything 
Win j  evei 

Style.  —  Styles  of  discourse  arc-  named  conversational^  nar. 

rative,  narrative  and  descriptive,  didactic,  public  address,  declatna- 


IOS  VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

/ory,  emotional,  according  to  the  characteristic  drift  of  the  voice. 
The  dramatic  style  combines  all  the  rest. 

"  Drift  is  founded  on  the  various  modes  of  vocality,  time, 
force."  Drift,  or  the  leading  melody  or  movement  in  delivery, 
enables  one  to  recognize  one  selection  as  joyous,  another  as 
solemn,  etc. 

In  addition  to  the  leading  characteristic  of  any  delivery,  it 
will  be  seen  that  pitch,  time,  force,  quality  of  voice,  etc., 
vary  on  the  different  sentences ;  hence  drift  does  not  mean 
sameness. 

Faults. —  i.  Although  drift  does  not  mean  sameness, 
many  readers  and  speakers  are  borne  along  on  one  emotion, 
until  finally  in  extreme  cases  there  seems  to  be  a  total  absence 
of  thought,  and  the  delivery  is  a  mere  repetition  of  words. 

2.  Improper  drift.  A  proper  observance  of  drift  is  nearly 
related  to  the  "word  fitly  spoken,  which  is  like  apples  of  gold 
in  pictures  of  silver."  Many  ministers  read  the  psalm  of  joy 
and  thanksgiving  with  the  same  minor  sadness  of  the  peni- 
tential psalms.  Too  many  ministers  whine  the  glad  tidings, 
instead  of  joyfully  proclaiming  the  gospel  of  good  will. 

Practice.  —  i.     Adapt  the  style  to  the  occasion  and  text. 

2.  Preserve  the  thread  of  the  whole  ;  but  insert  the  va- 
riety of  the  parts. 

3.  Let  the  imagination  have  its  play;  be  surrounded  by 
the  atmosphere  of  the  piece. 

Imitative  Modulation. — By  the  sound  of  the  voice  we 
may  imitate  the  sound  or  noise  of  external  objects.  The  roar 
of  the  ocean,  the  boom  of  cannon,  the  splash  of  the  water, 
the  hiss  of  the  snake,  etc.,  are  naturally  given  with  qualities 
of  voice  suggesting  the  sound,  unless  some  vicious  method' 
prevents. 

A  proper  use  of  this  modulation  is  valuable  in  making  the 
facts  real  to  the  audience.  Exaggerated,  it  becomes  obtru 
sive,  and  is  therefore  objectionable. 

Transition  is  the  various  changes  of  pitch,  force,  quality. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION. 


109 


rate  of  utterance,  in  the  different  parts  of  reading  or  speak- 
ing. It  is  needed  to  give  appropriate  expression  to  the  vary- 
in^  thought  and  emotion.  Its  effect  is  contrast  of  parts  and 
needful  variety. 

Practice.  —  1.     Keep  the  delivery  conversational  at  basis. 


Medium  rate 

and  PITCH. 

Soft. 


"  I  rather  think  the  gentle  dove 
Is  murmuring  a  reproof, 
Displeased  that  I  from  lays  of  love 
Have  dared  to  keep  aloof." 


Pure  tone. 

High  pitch. 

Medium  rate. 


"  Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies  ; 
Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand. 
Little  flower,  —  but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is." 


Full  voice. 

Low  pitch. 

Loud. 


"  But  I  hear  it  rung  continually  in  my  ears,  now 
and  formerly,  —  '  The  preamble  !  What  will  be- 
come of  the  preamble,  if  you  repeal  this  tax  ? ' 
The  clerk  will  be  so  good  as  to  turn  to  this  act, 
and  to  read  this  favorite  preamble." 


Low   PITCH. 

Median  stress. 

Slow  rate. 

Full  voice. 

Slightly  aspi- 

rated. 


High  pitch. 
Quick  rate. 
Pure  i 


"  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all 
generations.  Before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  or  ever  thou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the 
world,  even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  thou 
art  God." 

"  One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear, 
When  they  reached  the  hall  door,  and  the  charger 

stood  near ; 
There  was  racing  and  chasing  on  Cannobie  Lee, 
But  the  lost  bride  of  Netherbv  ne'er  did  thev  see." 


Low  PITCH. 
Slow  rate. 
Full  voice. 
Median  si  i 


"ii  God,  thou  bottomless  abyss  1 

Thee  to  perfection  who  can  know  ? 
O  height  immense!  what  words  suffice 
Thy  countless  attributes  to  show  ?  " 


no 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


low  pitch. 
Monotone. 

Loud. 

High   median 

stress. 

Aspirated. 

Low. 
Slow. 


Faster. 


Intermittent 
stress. 


i 


"Toll,  toll,  toll, 
Thou  bell  by  billows  swung !  " 

"  Forward,  the  light  brigade  ! 
Charge  for  the  guns  !  " 


Lady  M.     Alack,  I  am  afraid  they  have  awaked, 

And  't  is  not  done.     The  attempt,  and 
not  the  deed, 

Confounds  us.    Hark !  I  laid  their  dag- 
gers ready ; 

He  could  not  miss  them.     Had  he  not 
resembled 

My  father  as   he  slept,  I  had   done  't. 
My  husband ! 
Macbeth.     I  have  done  the  deed.     Didst  thou  not 
hear  a  noise  ? 


High. 

Pure  tone. 

Loud. 

Softer. 

Low. 

Full  voice. 

Monotone. 

Median  stress. 

Slow. 

Middle  pitch. 

Slow. 
Intermittent. 


"Ring!  Ring!   Ring! 
Joyful  anthems  full  and  loud; 
For  angels  of  love 
Came  down  from  above, 
And  brought  a  new  year  from  God." 

"  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life:  he  that  be- 
lieveth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live :  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me 
shall  never  die." 


f 


\ 


"  Bv  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat  down 


i   yea,  we  wept  when  we  remembered  Zion." 


Analysis  of  Expressive  Voice.  —  An  analysis  of  voice 
based  upon  the  mental,  moral,  and  vital  nature  of  man,  pos- 
sesses the  value  of  a  summary  of  the  previous  discussion  on 
expression.  It  will  also  consider  the  legitimate  effect  upon 
the  auditor. 

Corresponding  to  man's  mental,  moral,  and  vital  nature,  we 
have  thought,  affection,  passion. 


VOCAL    EXPRESSION.  Ill 

Mentality.  Naturally  the  voice  in  intense  mentality  assumes 
a  high  pitch,  with  head  resonance.  The  effect  upon  the  ear 
is  that  of  a  hard,  metallic,  narrow  sound.  Its  leading  use  is 
to  convince  the  judgment.  Persons  of  intense  mental  habits 
use  this  quality  of  tone,  unless  counterbalanced  by  some  other 
influence.  The  mathematical  professor  says,  "Now,  young 
gentlemen,  you  see  that  problem  may  be  solved  in  two  ways," 
in  this  hard,  penetrating  quality  of  voice. 

Peevishness,  complaint,  scolding,  slight  pain,  naturally 
express  themselves  in  this  tone ;  for  they  are  intense  mental 
conditions. 

Passional.  The  vital  or  passional  nature  expresses  itself 
by  the  large,  full  tone,  on  low  pitch  with  force.  Its  effect 
upon  the  ear  is  that  of  largeness,  strength.  It  is  adapted  to 
move  the  passions.  Persons  of  strong,  vital  habits  naturally 
use  this  tone.  Mere  animality,  the  swaggering  barkeeper, 
the  bully,  illustrate  the  lowest  stratum  of  this  voice.  The  man 
mortally  wounded  expresses  his  agony  in  groans.  This 
quality  of  voice  legitimately  expresses  strong  passion.  It  is 
the  prevailing  voice  in  parliamentary  discussion,  and  strong 
composition  cannot  be  appropriately  expressed  but  by  its 
use. 

Affectional.  The  affectional  or  moral  nature  expresses 
itself  by  the  medium  pitch,  gentle  force,  smooth  quality.  Its 
effect  upon  the  ear  is  gentleness,  evenness.  It  is  adapted  to 
persuade.  It  lies  between  and  balances  the  mental  and  vital 
qualities,  suggesting  the  central  truth  of  the  purest  religion, 
viz.  :  that  the  affectional  or  love  nature  of  man  should  bal- 
ance and  control  the  intellectual  and  passional. 

One  of  these  qualities  does  not  exclude  the  others.  They 
blend  variously;  but  usually  one  of  them  characterizes  the 
composition. 

A  triangle  will  suitably  represent  this  analysis  to  the  eye. 


112 


VOCAL    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


Quality. 

(  Hard  metallic 
\         quality, 
[      high  pitch. 

[        Pleasant 
•{         quality, 
[  medium  pitch. 

f       Full  tone, 
•j  strong, 

{       low  pitch. 


Expresses 
Thought. 

Affection. 

Passion. 


Adapted  to 
Convince. 

Persuade. 

Move. 


PART    II. 


ACTION-LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


ACTION-LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   I. 

EXPRESSION    BY    ACTION. 

Under  the  good  English  term  of  Action,  will  be  discussed 
the  language  of  Attitude,  Gesture,  and  Facial  expression. 

It  is  desirable  in  the  first  place  to  understand  howxhe.  body 
becomes  expressive  of  states  of  the  mind. 

Sir  Charles  Bell  has  shown  how  intimately  the  vital  organs, 
the  heart  and  lungs  especially,  are  united  to  each  other,  and 
to  the  muscles  of  the  neck,  face,  and  chest  by  a  system  of 
nerves.  He  has  also  shown  how  they  are  affected  by  the 
emotions  of  the  mind.  "  Thus  the  frame  of  the  body,  con- 
stituted for  the  support  of  the  vital  functions,  becomes  the 
instrument  of  expression  ;  and  an  extensive  class  of  passions, 
by  influencing  the  heart,  by  affecting  that  sensibility  which 
governs  the  muscles  of  respiration,  calls  them  into  operation, 
so  that  they  become  an  undeviating  mark  of  certain  states  or 
conditions  of  the  mind.     They  are  the  organs  of  expression.'' 

Darwin,  after  an  extensive  study,  treats  the  subject  in  his 
volume  on  the  "  Expression  of  Emotion  in  Man  and  Animals," 
and  deduces  three  principles,  which  are  valuable  to  students 
of  expression,  as  showing  the  uniformity  of  the  language  of 
expression,  and  the  importance  of  habit  as  a  factor  in  the 
subject  when  practised  as  an  art. 

They  are  as  follows  :  — 

L  Serviceable,  habitual  action.  Certain  actions  are  origi- 
nated because  of  their  serviceableness. 

"Whenever  the  same  state  of  mind  is  induced,  however 
feebly,  there  is  a  tendency,  through  the  force  of  habit  and 
association,  for  the  same  movements  to  be  performed,  whether 
or  not  of  service  in  each  particular  case." 


Il6      ACTION-LANGUAGE   CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

II.  Antithetic  action.     Certain  acts  are  serviceable. 
"Now,  when  a  directly  opposite  state  of  mind  is  induced, 

there  is  a  strong  and  involuntary  tendency  to  the  performance 
of  movements  of  a  directly  opposite  nature,  though  these  are 
of  no  use ;  and  such  movements  are  in  some  cases  highly 
expressive." 

III.  Constitution  of  the  nervous  system,  independently  from 
the  will,  and  to  a  certain  extent  independent  of  habit,  as 
trembling,  loss  of  color,  etc. 

In  addition  to  the  above  principles,  which  account  for  a 
large  class  of  emotional  expressions,  there  is  a  limited  class 
of  expressions  purely  volitional,  and  less  emotional.  They 
may  be  classified  as  follows  :  — 

(i.)  Descriptive,  as  in  representing  the  course  of  the 
rising  or  setting  sun,  or  as  in  suggesting  height,  length,  etc. 

(2.)  Location,  as  in  indicating  the  place  or  position  of 
any  object. 

Past  action  is  also  frequently  reproduced. 

The  Oratorical  Value  of  Action.  —  ^Eschines  said  of 
Demosthenes,  that  when  asked  for  the  prime  requisite  in 
oratory,  he  replied,  "Action,"  when  asked  for  the  second, 
he  replied,   "Action;"  and  for  the  third,  "Action.'* 

The  "  action  "  of  Demosthenes  may  have  included  the  par- 
ticulars and  sum  of  man's  whole  activities  ;  but  it  seems  quite 
probable  that  it  was  a  strong  way  to  express  an  important 
oratorical  truth.  Though  dispensable  to  some  degree,  yet  a 
perfect  orator  cannot  be  imagined  without  action.  If  a  man 
feels  the  truth  he  attempts  to  express,  he  must  and  will  have 
some  actions  of  face  and  gesture.  We  have  occasionally  seen 
speakers  quite  without  action,  and  they  have  always  been  as 
insipid  as  "expressionless"  people. 

The  language  of  action  and  form  primarily  reveals  the 
heart,  or  inner  states,  of  the  man.     A  life  of  sin  inevitably 

*  Cicero  de  Orat.,  c.  56. 


EXPRESSION    BY    ACTION. 


117 


impresses  the  body  unfavorably.  A  life  on  a  high  intellectual 
and  spiritual  plane  lifts  the  body,  and  it  lightens  up  with  a 
divine  light;  so  the  wise  man  taught  that  "a  sound  heart  is 
the  life  of  the  flesh."  (Prow  iv.  23.)  "The  heart  of  man 
changeth  his  countenance,  whether  for  good  or  evil."  (Son 
of  Sirach.)  This  suggests  that  perfect  expression  has  a 
moral  basis. 

Action-language  is  the  natural  and  universal  language  of  the 
race. 

Mr.  Darwin  sent  letters  of  inquiry  to  missionaries,  and  other 
intelligent  persons,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  to  ascertain  the 
action  of  men  under  certain  emotions. 

The  fact  was  established  that  men  in  all  grades  of  civiliza- 
tion and  savagery  expressed  the  different  emotions  by  sub- 
stantially the  same  action.  "  Lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  mouth, 
and  go  with  us,"  said  the  spies  (Judges  xviii.  19),  just  as 
men  do  now,  when  they  mean  secrecy.  Infants  first  use 
action-language. 

A  foreigner  on  our  street  is  unable  to  make  himself  under- 
stood with  the  scanty  vocabulary  at  his  command.  He  adds 
the  universal  language  of  action,  and  we  at  once  understand 
him. 

"Man  does  not  depend  upon  articulate  language  alone; 
there  is  the  language  of  expression,  a  mode  of  communication 
understood  equally  by  all  mankind,  all  over  the  globe,  not 
conventional  or  confined  to  nations,  but  used  by  infants 
before  speech,  and  by  untutored  savages."* 

Action  is  the  language  of  the  emotions.  The  emotions  are 
mental  on  one  side,  and  physical  on  the  other.  Through  the 
nervous  forces  the  physical  is  stimulated  irresistibly  to  express 
whatever  emotions  may  be  in  the  consciousness. 

We  see  the  persistency  with  which  emotions  tend  to  express 
themselves  in   a  given  way,  by  the  fact  that  it  is  difficult  to 

*  Sir  Charles  Bell's  "  Anatomy  and  Physiology  of  Expression."' 


I  1 8       ACTION-LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

conceal  our  feelings  when  any  emotion  pronounces  itself. 
Instead  of  expressing  thought,  this  language  tells  how  we 
are  affected  by  the  thought.  This  does  not  necessarily  sep- 
arate action-language  from  thought.  In  analyzing  any  emo- 
tion, we  can  frequently  succeed  best  by  proceeding  from 
the  idea  which  is  the  author  and  part  of  the  emotion.  If  I 
give  mathematically  the  height  of  a  mountain,  I,  without  ac- 
tion, make  the  statement  that  the  mountain  is  so  many  feet 
high.  If,  however,  I  am  moved  by  an  appreciation  of  its  lofti- 
ness, I  lift  my  arm  suggestive  of  height.  So  even  gestures, 
called  "gestures  of  location"  are  not  without  emotion.  In 
harmony  with  this  classification,  according  to  another  analy- 
sis, action  is  the  language  of  the  heart,  expressing  those 
moods  that  affect  character,  as  well  as  the  transitory  emo- 
tions. We  have  seen  that  the  language  of  the  habitual  atti- 
tudes interprets  character ;  action  is  only  an  inflection  of 
attitude. 

Action-language  is  elliptical.  Action  says  something  in  ad- 
dition to  the  spoken  word.  "  Suit  the  action  to  the  word," 
does  not  mean  that  you  are  to  make  the  action  say  precisely 
the  same  thing  that  the  word  does.     The  orator  who  said,  — 

"  And  we  drop  a  tear 
On  Lincoln's  bier," 

and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  with  finger  and  thumb 
took  the  tear  from  his  eye  and  dropped  it,  hardly  appreciated 
the  function  of  gesture. 

Gesture,  improperly  used,  may  contradict  the  spoken  word ; 
correctly  used,  it  re-enforces  speech. 

The  speaker  has  in  his  mind  to  unfold  the  subject  before 
him  ;  instead  of  saying  so,  he  lifts  his  hands,  obliquely  turn- 
ing the  palms  out,  which  indicates  the  purpose  of  opening  up 
the  matter.  This  gesture  is  in  common  use  with  most  speak- 
ers, but  analyzed  by  few. 

If  the  speaker  in  one  passage  is  joyous  in  mood,  and  in 


EXPRESSION    BY    ACTION.  IIO, 

another  serious,  he  does  not  say  it  in  words,  but  in  action- 
language. 

Action-language  is  direct  and  instantaneous,  in  distinction  from 
speech,  which  is  analytic  and  successive,  spoken  by  letters, 
syllables,  words,  phrases,  sentences.  A  motion  toward  the 
door  shows  the  indignation,  and  gives  the  order  to  go,  more 
forcibly  than  any  number  of  words  that  could  be  spoken. 

Action-language  is  the  picture-making  language.  It  addresses 
the  eye.  The  value  of  it  is  indicated  by  the  increasing  use 
made  of  object  teaching  and  illustration. 

An  audience  is  not  to  be  addressed  as  an  individual.  "Au- 
diences are  not  intelligent,"  some  one  has  said.  The  speaker 
can  say  to  an  audience  what  he  could  not  say  to  an  individual 
of  the  audience.  The  individual  independence  and  intelli- 
gence is  merged  in  the  mass  of  the  audience,  and  then  the 
emotions  have  freer  play. 

Any  emotion  of  an  audience  is  strangely  catching.  Feel- 
ings of  patriotism,  indignation,  etc.,  run  from  heart  to  heart 
like  fire.  The  majority  of  sober  people  lose  their  wits  in  the 
panic  of  the  crowd  ;  hence,  audiences  may  be  moved  as  indi- 
viduals cannot.  The  thoughtful  and  most  intelligent  in  audi- 
ences are  no  longer  themselves,  and  become  more  emotional. 

The  staid,  matter-of-fact  Franklin  was  once  lost  in  one  of 
YVhitefield's  audiences.  Franklin  had  stoutly  refused  to  con- 
tribute to  a  certain  orphanage  enterprise  under  YVhitefield's 
care,  because  disaffected  by  the  location.  He  went  to  hear 
the  preacher,  when  the  appeal  was  made  for  the  orphanage. 
Mr.  Franklin  said  :  "  I  had  in  my  pocket  a  handful  of  copper, 
three  or  four  silver  dollars,  and  five  pistoles  in  gold.  As  he 
proceeded  I  began  to  soften,  and  concluded  to  give  him  my 
copper  ;  another  stroke  of  his  eloquence  made  me  ashamed 
of  that,  and  I  concluded  to  give  him  my  silver  ;  and  he  finished 
so  admirably  that  I  gave  him  my  gold,  silver,  and  all." 

Now,  as  "  audiences  are  not  intelligent,"  and  the  "eyes  of 
the  ignorant  more  learned  than  ears,"  the  value  of  the  action- 


120      ACTION-LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

language,  addressing  the  eye  and  emotions,  is  made  apparent. 
The  number  and  kind  of  gestures,  effective  before  an  audi- 
ence, would  be  ludicrous  when  speaking  to  an  individual. 

Action-Language  is  Cultivatable.  —  Even  as  speech, 
so  may  the  language  of  action  be  cultivated  and  refined. 
That  English  is  our  mother  tongue,  does  not  imply  that  all 
are  equally  skilful  in  its  use.  Action-language  is  natural  lan- 
guage, but  it,  too,  must  be  cultivated. 

The  emotions  themselves  may  be  refined.  The  perception 
of  the  true,  the  beautiful,  the  good,  may  be  cultivated.  Ex- 
pression of  emotion,  as  of  thought,  of  course  must  wait  upon 
impression. 

i .  Emotional  expression  is  partially  under  the  control  of 
the  will.  This  gives  us  the  important  starting-point  that  in- 
asmuch as  emotional  expression  is  more  or  less  under  the 
control  of  the  will,  therefore  the  expression  is  more  or  less 
cultivatable. 

2.  By  expressing  any  emotion  it  becomes  stronger;  as 
seen  in  persons  who  do  not  control  their  anger,  becoming 
more  and  more  easily  provoked  to  this  emotion,  and  also  to  its 
expression.  The  merest  mechanical  expression  of  any  emo- 
tion reacts  upon  the  mind,  and  really  awakens  that  emotion. 
The  opposite  of  this  is  true  also.  By  the  fancy  we  call  up 
the  idea  of  any  emotion,  and  thus  sympathetically  feel  such 
emotion  and  express  it. 

3.  Force  of  habit.  It  is  well  known  that  habitual  move- 
ments are  performed  with  greater  facility  than  those  not  so. 
Availing  ourselves  of  this  law  of  nature,  exercise  upon  the 
gestures  more  frequently  used,  cultivates  ease  in  their  use, 
and  insures  variety. 

Habit,  however,  is  harmful  if  not  utilized,  as  it  allows  the 
action  of  a  few  movements  to  repeat  themselves  over  and  over 
again,  without  reference  to  expressiveness. 

Faults.  —  1.  Habitual  movements  or  attitudes.  Lifting  the 
eyebrows ;  lounging  on  the  desk ;  closing  the  eyes ;  hands  in 


EXPRESSION    liY    ACTION.  121 

pockets,  or  nervously  fingering  some  object ;  spasmodically 
drawing  the  mouth  down;  pounding;  tramping;  one  move- 
ment of  the  arm,  as  the  "  sledge-hammer "  gesture,  etc. ; 
bending,  or  other  disadvantageous  and  unbecoming  attitudes. 

2.  Gestures  out  of  t'mie ;  usually  after  time. 

3.  Gestures  awkwardly  expressed. 


122   ACTION -LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   II. 

GENERAL    PRINCIPLES    AND    PRACTICE. 

Preparatory  Decomposing  Exercises.  —  The  first  ef- 
fort of  the  student  in  this  connection  should  be  directed  to 
free  the  arms,  in  short  the  whole  body,  from  all  rigidity ;  to 
destroy  habitual  movements,  by  counteracting  exercises  and 
general  development.  Then  the  body  is  prepared  to  respond 
to  the  action  of  the  mind. 

Exercises.  —  i.  Work  the  fingers  to  free  them  from  stiff- 
ness. 

2.  Dangle  the  hands,  and  shake  the  arms  freely  from  the 
shoulder,  up  and  down,  whirling  in,  then  out ;  now  rotate  the 
body  on  the  hip-joints,  letting  the  arms  and  hands  fly  whither 
they  may,  while  rotating  the  body. 

3.  Lift  the  main  arm  until  the  elbow  is  level  with  the 
shoulder.  Shake  it  back  and  forth,  letting  the  forearm  dan- 
gle to  the  very  finger  tips. 

4.  (1).  Slowly  lift  the  arm  extended  forward  up  as  high 
as  the  level  of  the  head,  then  down,  the  back  of  the  wrist 
leading  while  moving  up,  the  face  of  the  wrist  leading  down, 
while  the  fingers  trail.  Take  care  to  make  the  movements 
from  the  shoulder  easy  and  flowing. 

(2.)  Make  this  same  movement ;  hands  level  with  the 
shoulders  in  bringing  them  near  together  in  front ;  then  out 
till  extended  from  the  sides.    Continue  these  ;  first  (1),  then  (2). 

In  these  movements,  command  a  steady  body,  and  feel  bal 
anced  with  the  "  sea-poise,"  as  though  buoyed  up  by  a  sur- 
rounding element. 

5.  Practise  any  exercise  that  will  give  suppleness  to  the 
limbs. 


GENERAL    PRINCIPLES    AND    PRACTICE.  1 23 

In  all  these  movements  avoid  making  hard  work  of  it.  Let 
the  mind  be  free,  else  the  mental  constraint  will  sympatheti- 
cally affect  the  muscles. 

6.  Combination  movement.  This  movement  educates  the 
movement  of  the  hand  and  arm  in  preparing  for  a  gest- 
ure, and  also  combines  movements  found  in  many  gestures. 
It  also  educates  the  muscles  to  nicety  and  precision  of 
action. 

Slowly  lift  the  arm  extended  in  front,  the  fingers  dangling 
or  trailing ;  when  the  hand  is  level  with  the  eye,  hold  and 
sight  over  the  thumb  to  an  object  on  the  wall ;  hold  in  this 
position  and  depress  the  wrist ;  the  open  palm  is  now  from  you, 
imagine  a  ball  against  the  palm,  turn  the  hand  out  around  this 
imaginary  ball,  now  the  fingers  are  depressed  and  palm  up 
and  out;  fold  the  fingers  on  the  palm,  beginning  with  the 
little  finger.  We  now  have  the  half  fist  (thumb  unfolded). 
Fold  this  half  fist  upon  the  forearm,  the  forearm  on  the  main 
arm.  Let  the  half  fist  dip  in  and  down,  the  elbow  moving  up 
in  opposition.  Now  unfold  the  arm,  palm  down,  extending 
with  a  final  thrust,  fingers  straightened. 

In  this  combination  there  are  at  least  eight  distinct  move- 
ments. These  may  be  resolved  into  three  general  movements, 
the  preparation  in  lifting,  the  folding  in,  and  the  folding  out. 
The  latter  is  spiral. 

All  the  above  exercises  should  be  practised,  first  by  the 
right,  then  by  the  left  arm  and  hand,  and  then  by  both. 

Cultivate  muscular  consciousness.  When  the  hands  are  pas- 
sive by  the  sides,  we  feel  their  weight. 

The  criteria  that  will  be  given  in  another  place  will  be 
virtually  a  following  out  of  this  same  principle  of  freeing  the 
body,  and  educating  the  muscles  to  perforin  the  most  com- 
monly used  expressions. 

As  the  corresponding  emotions  are  associated  with  their 
appropriate  expression,  these  criteria  will  have  the  additional 
advantage  of  the  constructive  element  in  their  practice. 


124   ACTION -LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 

Laws.  —  There  are  seven  general  principles  or  laws  of 
gesture,  in  conformity  to  which  action  must  be  made. 

i.  Evolution.  The  expression  centres  in  the  eye,  first 
manifests  itself  there,  and  then  radiates  to  the  extremities  of 
the  body.  The  pugilist  watches  his  antagonist's  eyes  instead 
of  his  fists  ;  for  the  purpose  and  direction  of  the  blow  first 
manifests  itself  there. 

2.  Materialization.  According  to  this  principle,  you  can 
treat  truth  as  you  treat  a  material  object.  In  this  case  truth 
is  symbolized.  A  cube  of  wood  may  be  employed.  The  hand 
beneath  it,  palm  up,  supports  the  block  ;  but  on  the  top  it 
crushes  it  down.  The  hand  edged  in  front,  protects  it ;  at  the 
side,  limits  or  defines ;  the  hand  removed  from  beneath 
refuses  support,  and  it  falls  ;  a  movement  against  it  overthrozvs 
it.  The  hand,  in  these  same  positions  or  movements,  not  only 
appropriately  but  naturally  expresses  the  same  attitude  or 
action  toward  fact  or  truth. 

3.  Sequence.  Gesture  precedes  or  accompanies  the  spoken 
word.  This  principle  is  frequently  violated.  Mechanical 
gesture  has  this  among  other  faults.  "  My  Lord  Northumber- 
land, we  license  your  departure  with  your  son."  Just  before 
or  while  uttering  the  word  "  departure  ''  make  a  strong  waft- 
ure  of  the  hand,  signifying,  depart  immediately.  Make  the 
same  gesture  while  or  after  pronouncing  the  word  "  son,"  and 
mark  the  difference. 

4.  Succession.  In  moving  from  the  centre,  the  old  does 
not  cease  till  the  new  begins  to  act,  that  is,  the  eye  does  not 
relax  till  the  body  begins  to  move.  The  main  arm  does 
not  cease  motion  till  the  forearm  moves,  the  forearm  does 
not  cease  till  the  hand  begins  to  move.  This  succession  pre- 
vents angular  movements. 

5.  Velocity.  The  rate  of  movement  is  inversely  propor- 
tionate to  the  mass  moved.  A  trifling  matter  is  tossed  off 
with  a  quick  movement,  but  "  Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a 
huge  round  stone,"  is  labored  and  slow. 


GENERAL    PRINCIPLES    AND    PRACTICE.  1 25 

6.  Suavity.  Tender,  kind  emotions  express  themselves  in 
circular  movements.  The  more  vehement  the  emotion,  the 
more  angular  will  be  the  gesture. 

7.  .Opposition.  In  making  a  movement  of  two  parts  of 
the  body  in  gesture,  each  part  should  move  in  opposite  direc- 
tions, or  else  a  parallelism  is  perpetrated.  To  illustrate  :  If 
in  salutation,  the  hand  be  lifted  near  the  face,  and  the  arm, 
body,  and  all  together,  be  moved  forward  in  bowing,  we  have 
a  parallelism.  If,  however,  while  inclining  the  head  and  body 
we  lift  the  hands,  the  movements  between  these  parts  are  in 
opposition,  then  moving  the  head  back  to  the  erect  position, 
we  toss  the  hand  out  and  down  in  opposition. 


126   ACTION -LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CRITERIA    FOR    PRACTICE. 

In  the  following  chapters  will  be  given  the  sentiments  often- 
est  used,  with  their  corresponding  expression,  for  practice. 

The  expressiveness  of  the  various  members  will  be  con- 
sidered, the  attitudes  and  inflections  given.  The  criteria  to 
follow  are  modifications  of  Delsarte's  classification,  and  may 
be  analyzed  and  practised,  in  order  to  establish  the  habit  of 
appropriately  expressing  the  sentiments  desired. 

In  practice,  gesture  must  always  be  made  in  reference  to 
an  object  or  audience.  Avoid  making  the  gesture  too  much 
to  one  side,  and  on  too  low  a  plane. 

Though  the  different  parts  of  the  body  are  considered 
separately,  they  do  not  act  exclusively  in  expression. 

Each  agent  of  action-language  has  its  rble.  It  is  well  to 
note  how  each  movement  is  transmitted  from  agent  to  agent. 
Inflections  or  fugitive  movements  are  transmitted  in  this 
manner ;  but  attitudes  are  characteristic,  and  cannot  be  so 
treated.  Whatever  affects  the  agents  severally  may  affect 
them  simultaneously. 

The  Chest  in  Expression.  —  In  treating  of  the  attitudes 
of  the  chest,  we  understand  it  includes  the  whole  trunk,  and 
shares  the  shoulder  movements. 

The  attitudes  of  the  chest  are  :  — 

First,  Conditional,  which  shows  condition  of  chest  in  itself. 

Second,  Relative  attitude,  relating  chest  to  an  object. 

The  Conditional  Attitudes.  —  First, Expansion.  It  shows 
different  degrees  of  excitement,  courage,  or  power  in  the  will. 

Second,  Contraction.  It  shows  different  degrees  of  timidity, 
effort,  pain,  or  convulsion  in  the  will. 


CRITERIA    FOR    PRACTICE.  \2J 

Third,  Relaxation.  It  shows  different  degrees  of  surrender, 
indolence,  intoxication,  prostration,  or  insensibility  of  will. 

Relative  Attitudes. — i.  Chest  leaning  directly  to 
object  shows  vital  or  objective  attraction ;  obliquely,  moral 
or  subjective  attraction. 

2.  Chest  leaning  directly  from  object,  vital  or  objective 
repulsion  ;  obliquely,  subjective  or  moral  repulsion. 

Movements.  The  bodv  and  shoulders  lifted,  shows  exalta- 
tion,  power,  domination  over  object. 

Movement  forward  to  object  shows  love  or  affection. 

Movement  backward  from  object  shows  aversion. 

Attitudes.  —  i.     In  repose  the  chest  is  erect  and  normal. 

2.  In  reflection  the  chest  bends  forward. 

3.  In  sublimity  the  chest  is  broadened  and  lifted. 

4.  In  attack,  or  vehemence,  it  is  expanded,  broadened,  and 
brought  forward. 

5.  In  despair  it  is  flattened. 

6.  Leaning  directly  before  an  object  indicates  deference. 

7.  Leaning  obliquely  to  object  indicates  reverence. 

8.  The  body  leaning  back  shows  pride. 

9.  Leaning  sidewise  is  the  attitude  of  wickedness ;  it  is 
fox-like. 

Positions.  In  physical  and  moral  weakness  the  gravity  of 
the  earth  beneath  draws  the  body  clown.  The  gestures- are 
made  on  a  lower  plane. 

In  spiritual  or  moral  exaltation  the  body  is  lifted,  and 
gesture  is  made  on  a  higher  plane. 


128   ACTION -LANGUAGE  CULTURE  AND  EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE    LIMBS    IN    EXPRESSION.  —  THE    FEET   AND    LEGS. 

A  general  principle  called  the  Law  of  Force  applies  to 
position.  Conscious  weakness  assumes  strong  positions,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  aged,  infirm,  and  children  learning  to  walk, 
placing  their  feet  far  apart. 

Conscious  strength  assumes  weak  positions,  as  in  the  case 
of  athletes,  and  of  men  of  mental  and  physical  vigor,  placing 
their  feet  nearer  together. 

Mental  and  emotional  conditions  correspond  to  the  physical 
states,  and  assume  similar  attitudes. 

Gravities.  Three  centres  of  gravity  are  to  be  considered. 
The  weight  upon  the  heel  indicates  the  subjective  state  of 
mind ;  the  weight  upon  the  toe,  or  ball  of  the  foot,  indicates 
that  the  object  dominates  the  man ;  the  weight  upon  the 
centre  indicates  balance  of  mind. 

Primary  attitude.  In  this  attitude  the  weight  is  on  both 
feet,  separated  by  the  width  of  one  of  the  feet,  and  the  toes 
turned  out  at  an  angle  of  seventy-five  degrees.  This  is  a 
weak  attitude.  It  characterizes  respect,  also  infancy.  If  the 
feet  be  far  separated,  the  expression  is  physical  weakness, 
insolence,  familiar  ease,  vulgar  repose,  intoxication. 

Second  attitude.  "  In  this  attitude  the  strong  leg  is  back- 
ward, the  free  one  forward.  This  is  the  attitude  of  reflection, 
of  concentration,  of  the  strong  man.  It  indicates  the  absence 
of  passions.  It  has  something  of  intelligence.  It  is  neither 
the  position  of  the  child,  nor  of  the  uncultured  man.  It  indi- 
cates calmness,  strength,  independence,  which  are  signs  of 
intelligence." 

Third  attitude.     "  Here  the  strong  leg  is  forward,  the  free 


THE    LIMBS    IN    EXPRESSION.  1 29 

leg  backward.  This  is  the  attitude  of  vehemence  and  of 
heroism.  The  orator  who  would  appear  passive,  that  is,  as 
experiencing  some  emotion,  or  submitting  to  some  action, 
must  have  a  backward  pose,  as  in  the  second  attitude. 

"  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  would  communicate  to  his  audience 
the  expression  of  his  will  or  of  his  own  thought,  he  must  have 
a  forward  pose,  as  in  the  third  attitude." 

Fourth  attitude.  "  Here  the  strong  leg  is  behind,  as  in  the 
second  attitude,  but  far  more  apart  from  the  other,  and  more 
inflected  (bent  at  the  knee).  This  is  a  sign  of  weakness 
which  follows  vehemence  and  terror." 

Fifth  attitude.  "  This  is  necessitated  by  the  inclination  of 
the  torso  to  one  side  or  the  other.  It  is  a  third  to  one  side. 
It  is  a  passive  attitude,  preparatory  to  all  oblique  steps.  Tt 
is  passing  or  transitive,  and  ends  all  the  angles  formed  by 
walking.     It  is  in  frequent  use  combined  with  the  second." 

Sixth  attitude.  This  is  the  second,  with  limbs  farther  apart. 
It  is  the  alternative  attitude.  The  body  faces  one  of  the 
two  legs.  In  this,  the  weight  upon  both  feet  indicates  hesi- 
tation. 

Seventh  attitude.  '  This  is  a  stiff  second  attitude,  in  which 
the  strong  leg  and  also  the  free  one  are  equally  rigid.  The 
body  in  this  attitude  bends  backward ;  it  is  the  sign  of  dis- 
trust, of  scorn,  of  defiance." 

The  Hand.  —  "By  representing  the  hands  disposed  in 
conformity  with  the  attitifde  of  the  figures,  the  old  masters 
have  been  able  to  express  every  different  kind  of  sentiment 
in  their  compositions.  Who,  for  example,  has  not  been  sen- 
sible to  the  expression  of  reverence  in  the  hands  of  the 
Magdalens  by  Guido,  to  the  eloquence  of  those  in  the  car- 
toons of  Raphael,  or  the  significant  force  in  those  of  the 
Last  Supper,  by  Da  Vinci.  In  these  great  works  may  be 
seen  all  that  Quintillian  says  the  hand  is  capable  of  express- 
ing :  '  For  other  parts  of  the  body  assist  the  speaker,  but 
these,   I   may  say,  speak  themselves.     By   them   we  ask,   we 


I30      ACTIOX-  LANGUAGE    CULTURE   AND    EXPRESSION. 

promise,  we  invoke,  we  dismiss,  we  threaten,  we  entreat,  we 
deprecate,  we  express  fear,  joy,  grief,  our  doubts,  our  assent, 
our  penitence ;  we  show  moderation,  profusion ;  we  mark 
number  and  time."'* 

The  hand  completes  and  interprets  the  expression  of  the 
face.     It  is  the  last  of  the  two  agents  to  act. 

Attitude.  —  i.  The  normal  position  of  the  hand  requires 
the  fingers  to  be  differential,  the  first  finger  quite  straight 
and  most  separated,  the  second  and  third  but  little  separated, 
and  more  bent,  the  fourth  more  separated  from  the  third,  and 
more  straight.  Straighten  the  thumb,  and  separate  from  the 
first  finger.  Avoid  woodenness,  which  results  from  keeping 
the  fingers  close  together  and  straightened  out.  Avoid 
spreading  the  hand,  and  also  all  convulsive  attitudes  of  it. 
Leave  them  entirely  alone  while  speaking.  This  attitude 
should  be  mastered  as  the  habitual  one.  It  expresses  calm 
repose. 

2.  The  fist,  thumb  outside  on  index  finger.  This  expresses 
conflict,  firmness,  strength,  concentration  of  force. 

3.  Bend  the  first  joint  of  the  fingers,  somewhat  apart. 
This  expresses  the  convulsive  state. 

4.  The  hand  lifeless,  thumb  falling  into  the  middle. 
This  attitude  expresses  prostration,  lack  of  energy  in  the 

mind,  imbecility.  I  have  frequently  seen  this  position  of  the 
hand.     The  necessity  of  avoiding  it  is  evident. 

5.  All  the  fingers  and  thumb  thrown  open,  and  separated 
slightly.  This  expresses  exaltation,  earnestness,  animated 
attention. 

6.  This  same  carried  still  further,  stiffening  the  fingers 
straight,  and  separating  to  the  utmost.  This  expresses  exas- 
peration. 

The  part  of  the  hand  next  to  the  auditor  is  the  expressive 
part.     The  back  of  the  hand  is  mystical  in  expression.     To 

*  <■■  The  Hand,"  by  Sir  Charles  Bell,  K.  G.  H.,  etc. 


THE    I.IMBS    IN    EXPRESSION.  131 

the  auditor  it  expresses  secrecy,  indefiniteness,  indistinctness, 
doubt  and  darkness. 

The  side  or  edge  of  the  hand  is  definitive  in  expression. 
Turned  to  the  auditor,  or  when  most  actively  employed,  it 
clearly  limits  or  defines  the  facts.  If  I  show  the  length  of  a 
stick,  I  separate  the  hands  with  the  edge  of  each  to  the 
auditor. 

The  palm  of  the  hand  is  revelatory  in  expression.  The 
speaker  throwing  his  hands  apart,  and  showing  the  palms, 
opens  up  the  subject  to  the  plain  sight  of  the  audience. 

Functions.  The  hand  defines,  holds,  surrenders,  inquires, 
caresses,  assails,  affirms,  denies,  conceals,  reveals,  accepts, 
regrets,  supports,  protects. 

Affirmations.  1.  The  teacher's  affirmation  defines.  In  this 
the  index  finger  is  prominent,  the  other  fingers  folded. 

2.  Champion's  affirmation  supports  ;  palm  up. 

3.  Conservative's  affirmation  limits ;  edge  of  the  open 
hand  leading  in  the  action. 

4.  The  tyrant's  affirmation  puts  down  ;  arms  thrown  down 
with  palms  to  the  floor. 

Inflections.  —  1.  Impatient  negation.  In  this  the  hand  is 
tossed  from  the  side. 

2.  Distribution,  "scattering  seeds  of  kindness  ";  palms  up, 
tossed  from  side  to  side. 

3.  Grasping,  assailment.  In  this  the  hands  are  suddenly 
closed,  and  drawn  to  the  body. 

4.  Exposition.     The  hands  thrown  open,  the  palms  out. 
The  Arms.  —  I  think  the  feet  and  arm  actions  are  more 

under  the  control  of  the  will  than  other  agents  of  expression, 
and  more  available  in  public  effort. 

In  the  arms  we  distinguish  the  articulations ;  the  shoulder, 
the  elbow,  the  wrist,  and  also  the  hand  and  fingers. 

The  shoulder  is  a  valuable  agent  of  the  orator.  By  a 
simple  movement  of  the  shoulder  a  vast  deal  may  be  expressed, 


132       ACTION -LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

and  it  always  makes  a  strong  impression.  The  shoulders  are 
a  thermometer  of  passion. 

(a.)     Normal  condition  indicates  calm  repose. 

(/'.I     Shoulders  elevated  indicate  passion. 

(c.)     Shoulders  depressed  indicate  feebleness. 

(//.)     Shoulders  brought  forward  indicate  pain. 

"  Liars  do  not  elevate  the  shoulders  to  the  required  height." 

The  elbows  are  a  thermometer  of  affection,  self-will,  self- 
esteem,  self-consciousness. 

The  positions  are  distinguished  :  — 

1.  The  normal  position  at  the  side. 

2.  The  elbows  turned  out  slightly.  This  indicates  tender- 
ness, and  may  be  carried  on  to  force  and  activity,  self-asser- 
tion, conceit,  strength,  arrogance. 

3.  The  elbows  turned  in.  This  indicates  self-suppression, 
poverty  of  spirit,  weakness,  inferiority,  self-consciousness,  im- 
potence, humility,  subordination,  fear. 

The  wrist  is  a  thermometer  of  vital  energy  of  mind. 
The  wrist  turned  back  up  indicates  normal  repose.  The 
wrist  turned  edge  up  indicates  preparation.  The  wrist 
turned  front  or  face  up  indicates  action. 

The  orator  needs  great  suppleness  of  wrist  to  give  freedom 
to  the  play  of  the  hand. 

Inflections  of  the  Arms.  —  1.  Calm  repose.  This  is  the 
natural,  easy  position,  with  arms  quietly  by  the  side. 

2.  Resigned  appeal  to  heaven.  in  this  action  the  arm 
without  lifting  is  turned  face  out,  the  hand  is  turned  palm 
slightly  up  ;  the  face  is  turned  in  opposition,  and  uplifted  to 
heaven. 

3.  Accusation.  In  accusation,  the  arm  is  stiffened  at  the 
side ;  the  eye  first  accuses  and  centres  upon  the  object,  then 
the  stiffened  arm  and  hand  are  lifted  till  the  eye  sees  the 
object  down  the  arm. 

4.  Imprecation.      The    arm    is    elevated    overhead.      The 


THE    LIMBS    IN    EXPRESSION.  133 

hand  is  formed  into  a  claw,  ready  as  a  bird  of  prey  to  pounce 
upon  its  victim. 

5.  Remorse.  In  remorse  the  hand  is  made  to  grasp  the 
back  of  the  head,  the  forearm  pressing  against  the  face. 

6.  Grief  or  shame.  The  face,  in  this  emotion,  is  hid  by 
the  hand  spread  over  it. 

7.  Tender  reproach.  To  express  this,  the  hand  is  slightly 
closed,  and  drawn  across  the  chest,  away  from  the  object., 
while  the  face  is  turned  upon  it  in  reproach. 

8.  Pathetic  repulsion.  To  express  this  emotion,  the  hand 
moves  toward  the  object  from  the  seventh  position,  while  the 
head  moves  in  the  opposite  direction. 

9.  Benediction.  In  benediction,  the  hands  are  lifted,  the 
backs  up. 

The  above  series,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  is  better 
adapted  to  dramatic  expression  ;  but  as  a  practice  for  ora- 
toric,  it  presents  the  feature  of  variety. 

The  following  series  is  more  oratoric  in  character. 

1.  Repulsion.  In  repulsion,  the  hand  is  lifted,  palm  out. 
thumb  near  the  ear.  It  is  then  shoved  out  straight  in  front, 
while  the  head  moves  back  in  opposition. 

2.  Attraetion  is  the  opposite  of  repulsion. 

3.  Supplieation.  In  supplication,  the  arm  is  lifted  tc 
heaven,  the  hand  open  and  held  half  horizontal.  Do  not 
hold  the  arm  immediately  in  front. 

4.  Appellation.  In  appellation,  the  forearm  is  lifted  per- 
pendicular, the  palm  of  the  hand  out. 

5.  Affirmation.  In  this  gesture  the  hand  is  thrown  down 
in  front,  the  palm  out. 

6.  Salutation.  The  hand  is  raised  gracefully,  the  head 
inclining  to  meet  it ;  after  they  have  approached  near  each 
other,  the  hand  is  thrown  gently  forward,  the  head  moving  in 
opposition.  The  hand  is  lifted  in  proportion  to  the  amount 
of  deference  or  respect  expressed.     Common  salutation  of 


134       ACTION' -LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

men  who  are  equals  is  frequently  made  by  a  wafture  of  the 
hand  from  the  region  of  the  stomach. 

7.  Negation.     The  arm  is  thrown  across  the  space  in  front 
of  the  student  toward  the  back,  the  palm  down. 

8.  Declaration.     This  is  the  same  movement,  with  the  palm 
of  the  hand  half  up. 

9.  Rejection.    This  is  the  same  as  negation,  with  the  thumb 
edge  of  the  hand  down.     It  sweeps  all  out  of  the  way. 

The  following  angles  exhibit  the  different  degrees  of  eleva- 
tion in  affirmation. 


Angles  of  Affirmation  and  Negation. 


The  angle  indicates  the  position  of  the  arm  at  the  close 
of  the  gesture.  Absolute  truth  is  directly  overhead.  Affirma- 
tion, with  moderate  assertion,  is  at  right  angles  to  our  per- 
pendicular. In  asserting  impossibility,  the  arm  makes  the 
angle  back  of  the  perpendicular  of  the  body. 

The  following  medallion  of  inflection  conveniently  exhibits 


THE    LIMBS    IN    EXPRESSION. 


135 


to  the  eye  the  angles,  arcs,  and  direction  the  hands  and  arms 
take  in  expression.  The  lower  part  of  the  circle  corresponds 
to  the  feet. 


Medallion  of  Inflections. 


Universality,  amplitude,  —  these  are  expressed  by  the  hands 
forming  part  of  a  circle  with  outstretched  arms. 

The  opposite  is  a  fine  gesture,  and  less  used. 

The  arrows  indicate  the  direction  of  the  hand  and  arm. 
In  this  the  hand  is  overhead. 

The  hand  circling  from  front  back,  indicates  glorification 
or  victory  achieved  ;  the  opposite,  exhortation  or  victor}-  ahead. 
The  straight  lines  interpret  themselves. 


I36      ACTION- LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE     FACE    AND     HEAD    IX    EXPRESSION. 

"  The  face  is  the  mirror  of  the  soul  "  because  it  is  the 
most  impressive  agent,  less  under  the  control  of  the  will,  and 
consequently  the  most  faithful  agent  in  rendering  the  states 
of  the  soul. 

Not  only  momentary  emotions  may  be  read  in  the  face, 
but  the  conformation  of  the  features  of  the  face  reveals  the 
aptitude  of  the  individual,  his  temperament  and  character, 
always,  of  course,  allowing  for  the  freedom  of  man  to  will 
and  live  above  his  natural  appetences. 

But  every  emotion  of  the  soul  writes  itself  upon  the  counte- 
nance, and  persistency  will  fix  it  there. 

We  have  characteristically  sad,  joyful,  thoughtful,  stupid, 
vicious  faces. 

We  have  seen  the  same  face  undergo  marked  and  some- 
times remarkable  changes,  as  the  individual  has  changed  his 
life.     The  face  gives  the  hand  more  significance  in  gesture. 

The  Eyes.  —  The  eyes  and  ears  are  called  the  organs  of 
the  spiritual  sense.  The  other  organs  of  sense  must  come  in 
contact  with  the  object,  in  order  to  know  of  its  qualities  or 
character. 

With  the  ear  we  can  hear  sounds  produced  afar  off,  and 
with  the  eye  we  can  see  the  object  that  impresses  us,  though 
many  leagues  in  the  distance. 

The  eye  then  is  the  highest  as  an  agent  of  expression. 

It  has  long  been  characterized  as  the  "  window  of  the 
soul." 

The  eye  is  an  intellectual  agent,  denoting  the  various  states 
of  the  mind. 


THE    FACE    AND    HEAD    IN    EXPRESSION.  I  37 

In  the  normal  eye  the  upper  lid  just  touches  the  iris.  A 
small  eye  indicates  strength ;  a  large  eye  indicates  languor. 

The  eye  opens  only  in  the  first  emotion,  then  it  becomes  calm. 

The  eyebrow  lifted  and  the  voice  lowered  indicates  a  desire 
to  create  surprise,  and  a  lack  of  mental  depth. 

The  lowered  brow  signifies  retention,  repulsion,  like  a 
closed  door. 

The  elevated  brow  is  like  the  open  door.  The  eyebrow  is 
the  door  of  intelligence. 

The  inflections  are  in  accord  with  the  eyebrows.  When  the 
brow  is  raised,  the  voice  is  raised.  This  is  the  normal  move- 
ment of  the  voice  in  relation  to  the  eyebrow. 

Sometimes  the  eyebrow  and  voice  are  in  contradiction. 
Then  there  is  always  an  ellipse  ;  it  is  a  thought  unexpressed. 

In  expressing  the  word  "  indeed,"  if  the  brow  and  voice  are 
lowered,  the  case  is  grave ;  if  the  brow  and  voice  are  elevated, 
the  case  is  mild,  amiable ;  if  the  voice  is  raised  and  the  brow 
lowered,  the  case  is  doubtful,  suspicious. 

1.  In  calm  repose,  the  eye  is  normal. 

2.  In  firmness,  the  eye  partially  closes  itself. 

3.  In  stupor,  the  eyelid  hangs. 

4.  In  astonisliment,  the  lids  are  dilated,  the  brow  raised. 

5.  In  disdain,  the  brow  is  held  normal,  the  lid  is  dilated. 

6.  In  perplexity,  the  brow  and  lids  contract. 

The  Head.  —  Besides  the  habitual  bearings  of  this  agent 
of  expression  which  are  quite  permanent,  we  have,  — 

1.  The  movements  of  attitude  which  are  temporarily  per- 
manent. 

2.  The  movements  of  inflection,  or  fugitive  movements. 
The  head  has  nine  primary  attitudes  from  which  the  others 

proceed.  In  the  normal  attitude  the  head  is  neither  high  nor 
low.  In  the  concentric,  the  head  is  lowered;  in  the  eccentric, 
the  head  is  elevated. 

There  are  some  general  facts  to  be  observed  as  to  position 
of  the  head. 


I38      ACTION -LANGUAGE    CULTURE    AND    EXPRESSION. 

1.  The  head  suppressed  upon  itself  (bent  forward)  indi- 
cates suppression  of  self. 

2.  Head  thrown  up  indicates  assertion  of  self. 

3.  Dropping  the  head  upon  the  breast  indicates  shame, 
remorse. 

Fugitive  Movements  of  the  Head  —  Inflection.  — 1. 
Forward  movement  ending  in  upright  one,  elevated  chin,  in- 
dicates interrogation,  hope,  appellation,  desire.  "Will  you 
go?" 

2.  The  same,  chin  lowered,  —  doubt,  resignation.  "I  am 
resigned  to  it,  wise  or  unwise." 

3.  Nod  of  the  head,  forward  movement,  confirmation, 
"Yes,  all  well." 

4.  Brusque  movement  forward,  menace  of  a  resolute 
man.      "  Send  us  the  prisoners,  or  you  shall  hear  from  us." 

5.  Head  back,  exaltation. 

6.  Brusque  movement  backward,  menace  of  a  weak  man. 
"  Now,  if  you  don't  do  it,  I  will  make  you  pay  for  it." 

7.  Rotative  movement  from  shoulder  to  shoulder,  impa- 
tience, regret.     "  I  regret  it  very  much." 

8.  Rotating  head,  perpendicular,  —  negative,  "  No." 

If  the  movement  ends  toward  the  interlocutor,  simple  nega- 
tive, "  No,  sir."  If  the  movement  ends  opposite  to  him,  nega- 
tive with  distrust. 

9.  The  rotative,  then  forward  movement,  —  exaltation. 
When  the  head  has  a  serious  part  to  play,  it  communicates 

an  inflective  movement  to  the  hand  which  renders  it  terrible. 

Menace,  in  the  fugitive  movement  we  have  indicated  the 
menace  of  (a)  weakness,  (0)  resolution.  This  can  be  trans- 
ferred to  the  hand.  "  You  will  have  a  quarrel  to  settle  with 
me. 

"  A  man  who  menaces  with  his  head  is  not  sure  of  his  aim, 
but  one  who  menaces  with  his  hand  is  sure  of  striking  right. 
In  order  to  do  this,  the  eye  must  be  firmly  fixed,  as  the  eye 
necessarily  loses   its  power  and  accuracy  by  a  movement  of 


THE    FACE    AND    HEAD    IN    EXPRESSION. 


139 


the  head.  There  is  great  power  in  the  menace  communicated 
by  the  hand.  The  head  menace  is  more  physical,  the  hand 
menace  more  intellectual. 

"  When  the  speaker  does  not  wish  to  express  his  opinion, 
and  has  the  fear  of  compromising  himself  with  his  eye,  he 
turns  aside  his  glance,  and  the  menace  is  communicated  to 
the  shoulder.  This  has  less  strength,  because  it  is  rendered 
by  one  of  the  sensitive  agents." 


ATTITUDES    OF   THE   HEAD. 


Sentiments. 
Calm  repose,  strategem   .     .     . 
Cunning,  envy,  hate,  suspicion, 


Sensualism 


Pride,  arrogance      .... 

Contemplation 

Vehemence,    exaltation,    aban-      ( 


Expression. 

■{  Head  easily  erect. 

\  Head  inclined  from  object  sidewise 

I       to  self. 

\  The  head  inclined  from  object,  eye 

I      to  corner  next  to  object. 

\  Head  turned  away  from  object  and 

I      thrown  back. 

•{  Head  inclined  before  the  object. 


donment  of   self 


Head  thrown  back. 


Lifting  the  whole  body  with  the  head,  exaltation  of  self  over 
object ;  expresses  arrogance. 


7.  Veneration,  reverence  .     . 

8.  Tenderness,  affection  .     . 

9.  Nonchalance,  confidence . 


\  Head  inclined  obliquely  to  object. 
\  Head  inclined  laterally  to  object. 
\  Head  inclined  away  from  object. 


Head  thrown  directly  and  easily  back,  with  uplifted  face,  may 
express  spiritual  exaltation. 


PART    III. 


EXPRESSION 


EXPRESSION. 


The  Speaker  before  the  Audience.  — When  as  speaker 
you  appear  before  an  audience,  in  the  pulpit,  at  the  bar,  or  on 
the  platform,  you  are  supposed  to  be  informed  as  to  your  sub- 
ject, and  to  have  arranged  the  matter  for  the  easiest  and  most 
effective  presentation.  You  must  be  thoroughly  possessed  by 
the  subject  and  forget  self,  and  in  a  measure  the  audience. 
Think  not  how  to  appear  great,  nor  to  win  the  applause  of 
the  audience.  Your  purpose  now  is  to  give  the  truth  that 
stirs  your  own  soul.  All  tricks  and  artifices  are  vain.  Have 
a  purpose  ;  aim  to  accomplish  it.  Now  leave  all  practice  ; 
execution  is  called  for.  Nothing  so  "  makes  the  judicious 
grieve  "  as  a  speaker  practising  before  his  audience. 

The  speaker's  bearing  should  be  strong  and  confident,  yet 
deferential.  Stand  free,  but  do  not  lounge.  Very  plainly 
the  speaker  should  face  the  audience.  Do  not  turn  the  back 
upon  the  audience  even  when  addressing  the  past ;  any  posi- 
tion that  does  not  show  part  of  the  face  to  the  audience  is 
not  admissible.  Keep  your  eye  upon  the  audience,  for  this 
gives  controlling  influence  over  them. 

Every  change  of  attitude  should  be  controlled  by  a  purpose, 
and  be  made  only  as  a  preparation  for  the  delivery  of  a  new 
idea,  or  before  a  paragraph  or  other  division  of  the  discourse. 
Thought  should  be  taken  to  keep  the  lungs  well  supplied  and 
the  chest  lifted.  Just  before  speaking  the  first  sentence, 
slowly  fill  the  lungs  by  breathing  through  the  nostrils,  in  the 
mean  while  looking  upon  the  audience  to  challenge  their  at- 
tention. In  beginning  do  not  mumble  the  sounds.  It  is 
safe  to  say  that  eight  out  of  every  ten  speakers  begin  in  such 


144  EXPRESSION. 

a  low  and  weak  voice,  that  one  half  of  an  audience  of  aver- 
age size  do  not  hear  the  first  part  of  the  discourse.  On  the 
other  hand,  caution  must  be  exercised  not  to  begin  by  shout- 
ing. Begin  on  the  conversational  level.  Direct  the  voice  to 
the  farthest  person  in  the  room,  and  with  clearness  and  force 
lift  the  voice  to  this  auditor,  and  be  sure  he  hears. 

In  execution,  your  first  effort  should  be  to  make  yourself 
understood;  therefore  clearly  or  distinctly  speak  the  words, 
giving  every  syllable  its  clue  time  in  pronunciation,  not  pret- 
tily, but  with  force  and  smoothness. 

In  the  second  place,  you  must  make  yourself  felt.  "  Elo- 
quence consists  in  feeling  a  truth  yourself,  and  in  making 
those  who  hear  you  feel  it."  Do  not  seek  to  produce  an 
"effect."  This  is  an  abomination.  In  expression,  while  pre- 
serving the  unity,  you  must  seek  variety.  Avoid  being  borne 
along  by  one  emotion.  Let  thought  and  emotion  have  full 
play ;  let  voice  and  action,  untrammelled,  do  their  part  in  re- 
sponding. Whisper,  plead,  storm,  persuade,  in  keeping  with 
the  thought  and  emotion.  Lead  the  audience  up  step  by  step, 
seeking  the  legitimate  conviction,  "  The  truth,  we  will  defend 
it,  we  will  live  it !  " 

The  closing  words  should  be  adapted  to  compose  the  emo- 
tions and  leave  the  thought  of  the  effort  upon  the  mind. 
Prof.  Monroe  gave  his  pupils  the  appropriate  motto,  "Have 
something  to  say  ;  say  it ;  stop." 

As  a  reader  you  should  be  familiar  with  what  you  are  to 
read.  Avoid  bending  over  to  the  page.  If  holding  the 
book,  lift  it  about  as  high  as  the  shoulder,  in  the  left  hand, 
little  finger  and  thumb  keeping  the  book  open,  the  remaining 
fingers  supporting  it.  In  representing  two  characters,  for 
one,  read  to  the  right ;  for  the  other,  to  the  left.  Less  action 
is  required  in  reading  than  in  speaking,  except  in  strong  fo- 
rensic declamation  or  in  dramatic  delineation. 

Think  the  thought,  recall  the  scenes  of  the  subject ;  give 
it  to  the  audience. 


EXPRESSION.  145 

Analysis  of  Written  Language.  —  Speech  expresses 
thought  and  emotion  by  the  varied  use  of  emphasis,  time, 
force,  pitch,  quality  of  voice,  etc.,  as  previously  discussed. 

Written  language  should  be  carefully  analyzed  to  find  out 
the  sense  of  the  author,  the  various  sentiments,  the  strength 
of  passion  involved,  in  order  to  determine  what  parts  require 
prominence,  what  are  to  be  cast  into  the  shade,  what  parts 
are  separated  in  the  sentence,  though  related  in  thought,  that 
emphasis,  pitch,  inflection,  rate,  etc.,  may  be  intelligently  ap- 
plied. Every  piece  of  composition  has  its  own  peculiar  atmos- 
phere, and  the  speaker  should  find  it  and  let  it  permeate  his 
mind. 

With  the  selections  for  practice  will  be  given  the  principal 
points  in  the  analysis  of  the  pieces.  I  will  give  first  the 
stvle  of  delivery ;  second,  the  emotional  attitude  of  the 
speaker ;  and  indicate  other  points  in  analysis  by  the  me- 
chanics of  expression.  Proper  emphasis,  slurring  and  pauses, 
are  the  leading  features  in  the  mechanics  of  expression,  and 
these  are  indicated  in  some  of  the  selections  given  here  for 
practice* 

Small  capitals  indicate  the  words  that  take  the  leading 
emphasis;  italics,  the  words  in  the  deepest  shade  (read  on 
lower  pitch  and  faster);  the  "0,"  a  pause.  Every  measure, 
as  in  music,  is  to  occupy  the  same  time,  to  be  consumed  in 
pronunciation  or  pauses.  Long  quantity,  though  unaccented, 
may  fill  a  measure.  Be  free  in  action,  afterward  criticise  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  of  action-language. 

The  finer  shades  of  expression  must  be  wrought  out  by  the 
student  in  the  light  of  the  instruction  already  given,  as  an  at- 
tempt to  give  a  complete  analysis  in  book  instruction  would 
be  laborious  and  confusing,  if  not  impossible. 

*  Other  selections  are  given  for  the  students  to  analyze. 
10 


I46  EXPRESSION. 


I.     THE  ELDER   BROTHER.  — Monroe's  Reader. 

Simple  Conversational.  —  Observe  the  inquiring  mood  of  the  elder 
brother,  the  easy-going  mood  of  the  landlord.  Medium  pitch,  slow  rate, 
simple  inflections. 

0  A  I  gentleman  |  of  England  |  0  had  |  two  sons;  |  0  0  | 
the  elder  of  J  whom,  0  |  eager  for  \  adventure,  |  0  and  \  weary 
of  I  the  restraints  \  of  home,  |  0  0  |  obtained  his  |  father's  per- 
mission I  0    tO  go  I  ABROAD.   I  0   0  I  0   0   I 

Ten  I  years  |  later,  0  |  0  a  |  traveller,  |  0  0  |  prema- 
turely I  old,  0  I  covered  \  with  rags  \  and  dust,  0  |  stopped  at  | 
an  inn  |  near  the  |  paternal  |  estate.  |  0  0  |  Nobody  |  knew 
him,  I  0  a/-  \  though,  0  |  by  his  \  conversa-  \  Hon,  0  |  he  ap- 
peared I  to  have  had  [  0  some  |  previous  |  0  ac-  |  quaint- 
ance  I  with  the  |  neighborhood.  |  0  0  |  0  Among  |  other  | 
questions,  0  |  he  asked  |  concerning  |  the  fa-  |  ther  of  |  the 
two  I  sons.  0  I  0  0  I  0  0  I 

"Oh,  0  I  lie's  dead,"  |  0  said  the  \  landlord;  |  0  0  |  "been 
dead  |  these  five  |  years  ;  0  |  0  poor  |  old  |  man  !  |  0  0  |  dead 
and  j  forgot-  |  ten  0  |  long  j  ago  !  "  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 

"  And  I  his  SONS  ? "  ||  0  said  the  \  traveller,  |  0  after  \  a 
pause;  |     0  "  I  |  believe  |  he  had  |  two."  |  0  0  | 

"  Yes,  I  0  he  I   had.    |  0  Thomas  |  0  and    James.  [  0  0  | 
Tom  I  was  the  |  heir.  0  |  0  But  |  he  was  |  unsteady  ;  0  |  0 
had  I  a   roving  |  disposition  ;    0  |  0  gave  |  his    |   father   |    no 
end  I  of   trou-  |  ble.    0  |  Poor   |  old  man  !     |  0  0  |  poor  |  old 
man  ! "      |  0  0  |  And  the  |  landlord,  |  0  shaking  \  his  head  \ 
sorrow-  j  fully,  0  |  drained  a  |  good  tank-  |  ard  of  |  his  own  | 
ale,  0  I  by  way  of  |  solace  |  0  to  his  |  melan-  |  choly  |  reflec-  | 
tions.   0  j  0  0  I  0  0  I 

The  trav-  |  eller  0  |  passed  a  |  trembling  |  hand  0  |  over  | 
his  own  I  pale  brow  |  and  rough  |  beard,  0  |  and  said  | 
again,  —  j  0  0  | 

"  But  0  I  James,  0  |  the  sec-  |  ond  son,  |  0  he  is     0  alive  '  " 
I  0  0  I  0  0  I 


EXPRESSION.  147 

"You    would  I  think   I   so,"    0  I   said  the  \    landlord,  0   | 
smacking  |  his  lips.  |  0  0  |  "Things  |  have  hap-  |  pened  well 
|  for  him.     |  0  0  |  The  old  |  man  dead ;    |  0  his  broth-  |  er 
dead  |  too  —  " 

"His  |  brother  |  dead?"  0  |  said  the  \  travel-  \  Ic>\  with  \  a 
start.  0  |  0  0  J 

"  Dead,  |  0  or  as  |  good  as  |  dead.    |  0  0  |    He  went  |  off 

on  |  his  trav-  |  els  ten  |  years  |  ago,  |  and  has  |  never  |  been 

heard  |  of   since.  |  0  0  |   So   James  |  has   come  |   into   j   the 

es-  |  tate,  0  |  0  and  |  a  brave  |  estate  |  it  is,  |  0  and  |  a  gay 

|  gextlemax  I   is    Tames —   |  00        What!    going,       sir?" 

I  0  0  | 

"  I  beg  |  your  par-  |  don,"  0  |  said  the  \  travel-  \  ler,  ris-  \ 
ing.  |  0  "I  —  0  |  I  0  |  have  |  business  |  with  this  |  James." 

II.     THE   CHEERFUL  LOCKSMITH.  — Charles  Dickens. 

Animated  Narrative.  —  To  express  the  cheerfulness  of  this  selection, 
read  on  quite  a  high  pitch,  making  wide  intervals  when  required,  to  the 
lower  pitches.  Long  quantity,  pure  tone.  Give  "tink"  a  metallic 
sound. 

From  the  workshop  of  the  Golden  Key  there  issued  forth  a 
tinkling  sound,  so  merry  and  good-humored,  that  it  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  some  one  working  blithely,  and  made 
quite  pleasant  music.  Tink,  tink,  tink,  clear  as  a  silver  bell, 
and  audible  at  every  pause  of  the  streets'  harsher  noises, 
as  though  it  said,  "  I  don't  care  ;  nothing  puts  me  out.  I  am 
resolved  to  be  happy." 

Women  scolded,  children  squalled,  heavy  carts  went 
rumbling  by,  horrible  cries  proceeded  from  the  lungs  of 
hawkers;  still  it  struck  in  again,  no  higher,  no  lower,  no 
louder,  no  softer;  not  thrusting  itself  on  people's  notice  a 
BIT  the  more  fur  having  been  outdone  by  LOUDER  sounds, — 
tink,  tink,  tink,  tink,  tink. 

It  was  a  perfe  I    embodiment  of  the  still  small  voice,  free 


I48  EXPRESSION. 

from  all  cold,  hoarseness,  huskiness,  or  unhealthiness  of  any 
kind.  Foot  passengers  slackened  their  pace,  and  were  dis- 
posed to  linger  near  it;  neighbors  who  had  got  up  sple- 
netic that  morning,  felt  good-humor  stealing  on  them  as  they 
heard  it,  and  by  degrees  became  quite  sprightly.  Mothers 
danced  their  babies  to  its  ringing.  Still  the  same  magical 
{ink,  tink,  tink,  came  gayly  from  the  workshop  of  the  Golden 
Key. 

Who  bnt  the  locksmith  could  have  made  such  music  ?  A 
gleam  of  sun  shi/ii/ig  through  the  unsashed  window  and  check- 
ering the  dark  workshop  with  a  broad  patch  of  light,  fell  full 
upon  him,  as  though  attracted  by  his  sunny  heart.  There 
he  stood  working  at  his  anvil,  his  face  radiant  with  exer- 
cise and  gladness,  his  sleeves  turned  up,  his  wig  pushed 
off  his  shining  forehead,  the  easiest,  freest,  happiest  man 
in  all  the  world. 


III.     LOCHINVAR.  — Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Lively  Narrative.  —  Observe  that  the  author  is  in  sympathy  with 
Lochinvar.  Observe,  also,  the  haughty  attitude  of  the  father,  the  defer- 
ential-indifferent attitude  of  Lochinvar.  High  pitch,  quick  rate,  medium 
stress,  frequent  wide  intervals. 

1.  O  young  Lochinvar  has  come  out  of  the  West, 
Through  all  the  wide  border  his  steed  was  the  best! 
And  save  his  good  broadsword,  he  weapon  had  none, 
He  rode  all  unarmed,  and  he  rode  all  alone. 

So  faithful  in  love,  and  so  dauntless  in  war, 
There  never  was  knight  like  the  young  Lochinvar. 

2.  He  stayed  not  for  brake,  and  he  stopped  not  for  stone, 
He  swam  the  Eske  River  where  ford  there  was  none  ; 
But  ere  he  alighted  at  Netherby  gate, 

The  bride  had  consented,  the  gallant  came  late  : 
For  a  laggard  in  love,  and  a  dastard  in  war, 
Was  to  wed  the  fair  Ellen  of  young  Lochinvar. 


EXPRESSION.  I49 

3.  So  boldly  he  entered  the  Netherby  hall, 

'Mong  bridesmen,  and  kinsmen,  and  brothers,  and  all : 
Then  spoke  the  bride's  father,  his  hand  en  his  sword 
(For  the  poor  craven  bridegroom  said  never  a  word), 
"  O  come  ye  in  peace  here,  or  come  ye  in  war. 
Or  to  dance  at  our  bridal,  young  Lord  Lochinvar  ?  " 

4.  So  stately  his  form,  and  so  lovely  her  face, 
That  never  a  hall  such  a  galliard  did  grace  ; 
While  kcr  mother  did  fret,  and  her  father  did  fume. 

And  the  bridegroom  stood  dangling  his  bonnet  and  plume ; 
And  the  bridemaidens  whispered,  "'Twere  better,  by  far, 
To  have  matched  our  fair  cousin  with  vounc  Lochinvar." 


S> 


One  touch  to  her  hand,  and  one  word  in  her  ear. 

When  they  reached  the  hall-door,  and  the  charger  stood  near  ; 

So  light  to  the  croupe  the  fair  lady  he  swung, 

So  light  to  the  saddle  before  her  he  sprung; 

"  She  is  won  !  we  are  gone  !  over  bank,  bush,  and  scar, 

They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,"  quoth  young  Lochinvar. 


IV.    TOUSSAIXT   L'OUVERTURE.  —  Wendell  Phillips 

Oratoric.  —  Conversational  basis.  Observe  the  easy  but  vivid  and 
incisive  style  in  this  short  extract  from  a  speech  of  this  prince  of 
American  orators.  Medium  pitch,  slow  rate,  radical  stress,  downward 
slides. 

Mounting  his  horse,  and  riding  to  the  eastern  end  of  the 
island,  Toussaint  looked  out  on  a  sight  such  as  no  native 
had  ever  seen  before.  Sixty  ships  of  the  line,  crowded  by 
the  best  soldiers  of  Europe,  rounded  the  point.  They  were 
soldiers  who  had  never  yet  met  an  equal,  whose  tread,  like 
it's,  had  shaken  Europe,  soldiers  who  had  scaled  the 
pyramids  and  planted  the  French  banners  on  the  walls  of 
Rome.  He  looked  a  moment,  counted  the  flotilla,  let  the 
reins  fall  on  the  neck  of. his  horse,  and  turning  to  Cristophe, 
exclaimed,    "  All   France  is   come    to   Hayti ;    they    can    only 


1  50  EXPRESSION. 

come  to  make  us  slaves;  and  we  are  lost!"  He  then  recog- 
nized the  only  mistake  of  his  life,  —  his  confidence  in  Bona- 
parte, which  had  led  him  to  disband  his  army.  Returning 
to  the  hills,  he  issued  the  only  proclamation  which  bears 
his  name  and  breathes  vengeance :  "  My  children,  France 
comes  to  make  us  slaves.  God  gave  us  liberty ;  France 
has  no  right  to  take  it  away.  Burn  the  cities,  destroy  the 
harvests,  tear  up  the  roads  with  cannon,  poison  the  wells, 
show  the  white  man  the  hell  he  comes  to  make."  And  he 
was  obeyed. 

When  the  great  William  of  Orange  saw  Louis  XIV.  cover 
Holland  with  troops,  he  said,  "  Break  down  the  dikes,  give 
Holland  back  to  the  ocean";  and  Europe  said,  "  Sublime  !" 
When  Alexander  saw  the  armies  of  France  descend  upon 
Russia,  he  said,  "  Burn  Moscow,  starve  back  the  invaders  " ; 
and  Europe  said,  "  Sublime  ! "  This  black  saw  all  Europe 
marshalled  to  crush  him,  and  gave  to  his  people  the  same 
heroic  example  of  defiance. 

It  is  true,  the  scene  grows  bloodier  as  we  proceed.  But, 
remember,  the  white  man  fitly  accompanied  his  infamous 
attempt  to  reduce  freemen  to  slavery  with  every  bloody  and 
cruel  device  that  bitter  and  shameless  hate  could  invent. 
Aristocracy  is  always  cruel.  The  black  man  met  the  attempt, 
as  every  such  attempt  should  be  met,  with  war  to  the  hilt. 
In  his  first  struggle  to  gain  his  freedom,  he.  had  been  gener 
ous  and  merciful,  saved  lives  and  pardoned  enemies,  as  the 
people  in  every  age  and  clime  have  always  done  when  rising 
against  aristocrats.  Now,  to  save  his  liberty,  the  negro 
exhausted  every  means,  seized  every  weapon,  and  turned 
back  the  hateful  invaders  with  a  vengeance  as  terrible  as 
their  own,  though  even  now  he  refused  to  be  cruel. 

Leclerc  landed.  Cristophe  took  two  thousand  white  men, 
women,  and  children  and  carried  them  to  the  mountain  for 
safety,  then  with  his  own  hands  set  fire  to  the  splendid  palace 
which  French  architects  had  just  finished  for  him,  and  in  forty 


EXPRESSION.  151 

hours  the  place  was  in  ashes.  The  battle  was  fought  in  its 
streets,  and  the  French  driven  back  to  their  boats.  Wherever 
they  went  they  were  met  with  fire  and  sword.  Once  resisting 
an  attack,  the  blacks,  Frenchmen  born,  shouted  the  Marseilles 
hymn,  and  the  French  i:tood  still;  they  could  not  fight  the 
Marseillaise.  And  it  was  not  till  their  officers  sabred  them  on 
that  thev  advanced,  and  then  they  were  beaten. 

He  then  sent  word  to  Leclerc,  "  I  will  submit.  I  could 
continue  the  struggle  for  years, — could  prevent  a  single 
Frenchman  from  safely  quitting  your  camp.  But  I  hate  blood- 
shed. I  have  fought  only  for  the  liberty  of  my  race.  Guar- 
antee that,  i  will  submit  and  come  in."  He  took  the  oath  to 
be  a  faithful  citizen,  and  on  the  same  crucifix  Leclerc  swore 
that  he  should  be  faithfully  protected,  and  that  the  island 
should  be  free. 

As  the  French  general  glanced  along  the  line  of  his  splen- 
didly equipped  troops,  and  saw  opposite  Toussaint's  ragged, 
ill-armed  followers,  he  said  to  him,  "  L'Ouverture,  had  you 
continued  the  war,  where  could  you  have  got  arms  ?  "  "  I 
would  have  taken  yours,"  was  the  Spartan  reply. 

He  went  down  to  his  house  in  peace  ;  it  was  summer.  Le- 
clerc remembered  that  the  fever  months  were  coming,  when 
his  army  would  be  in  hospitals,  and  when  one  motion  of  that 
royal  hand  would  sweep  his  troops  into  the  sea.  He  was  too 
dangerous  to  be  left  at  large.  So  they  summoned  him  to  at- 
tend a  council  ;  he  went,  and  the  moment  he  entered  the 
room  the  officers  drew  their  swords  and  told  him  he  was  a 
prisoner. 

He  was  sent  to  the  castle  of  St.  Joux,  to  a  dungeon  twelve 
feet  by  twenty,  built  wholly  of  stone,  with  a  narrow  window, 
high  up  on  one  side,  looking  out  on  the  snows  of  Switzerland. 
In  this  living  tomb  the  child  of  the  sunny  tropics  was  left  to 
die. 


15"  EXPRESSION. 


V.     SPEECH    ON   AMERICAN   INDEPENDENCE. —  Patrick 

Henry. 

Oratoric.  —  Observe  the  strong,  bold  attitude  of  the  author.     Medium 
pitch  ;  slow  rate  ;  radical  stress.     Observe  the  opportunity  for  climax. 

Mr.  |  President,  |  0  0  |  0  it  is  |  natural  to  |  man  |  0  to  in- 
|  dulge  in  the  il-  |  lusions  of  |  hope.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  We  are  | 
apt   to  |  shut    our  |  eyes  |  0    a-  |  gainst    a  |  painful  |  truth,  | 
0  0  |  0   and  |  listen    to  the  |  song  of   that  |  syren,  |  0  0  |  till 
she  trans-  |  forms  us  |  0  into  |  beasts.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  Is  |  this 
the  |  part  of  |  wise  |  men,  |  0  en-  |  gaged  in  a  |  great  and  | 
arduous  |  struggle  |  0  for  |  liberty  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Are  we    dis- 
|  posed  |  0  to  |  be  of  the  |  number  of  |  those  |  0  who  |  hav> 
ing  |  eyes,  |  see  not,  |  0  and  |  having  |  ears,  |  hear  not  the  | 
things  |  0  which  so  |  nearly  con-  |  cern  our  |  temporal  sal-  | 
vation  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  For  |  my  |  part,  |  0  what-  |  ever  |  an- 
guish of  |  spirit  |  0  it  may  |  cost,  |  0  0  |  I  am  |  willing  to  | 
know  the  |  whole  |  truth;  |  0  0     |  0  to  |  know  the  |  worst,  | 
0  0  |  and  to  pro-  |  vide  for  it.  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 

0  They  |  tell  us,  |  sir,  0  |  that  we  are  |  weak,  |  0  un-  |  able 
to  |  cope  with  so  |  formidable  an  |  adversary.  |  0  0  |  0  U  |  0 
But  |  when  shall  we  be  |  stronger?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Will  it  be  the 
|  next  |  week,  |  0  or  the  |  next  |  year  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Will  it  | 
be  |  when  we    are  |  totally  dis-  |  armed,  |  0  and  |  when    a  | 
British  |  guard  |  0  shall  be  |  stationed  in  |  every  |  house  ?  |  0 
0  |  0  0  |  0  Shall  we  |  gather  |  strength  |  0  by  |  irreso-  |  lution, 
|  0  and  in-  |  action?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  Shall  we  ac-  |  quire  the 
|  means    of    ef-  |  fectual    re-  |  sistance,  |  0    by  |  lying   su-  | 
pinely  |  0  on  our  |  backs,  |  0  and  |  hugging  the  de-  |  lusivc  | 
phantom  of  |  hope,  |  0  un-  |  til  our  |  enemies  |  0  shall  have  | 
bound  us  |  hand  and  |  foot  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Sir,  0  \  0  we  arc  | 
not  |  weak,  |  Oifwe  |  make  a  |  proper  |  use  of  |  those  |  means 
|  0   which  the  |  God   of  j  nature  |  0  hath  |  placed    in   our  | 
power.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Three  |  millions  of  |  people  |  0  0  |  armed 
in  the  |  holy  |  cause  of  |  liberty,  |  0  and  in  |  such  a  |  country  | 


EXPRESSION.  I53 

0  as  I  that  which  |  we  pos-  |  sess,  |  0  are  in-  |  vincible  |  0  by  | 
any  |  force  |  0  which  our  |  enemy  |  0  can  j  send  a-  |  gainst  us. 

I  0  0  I  0  0  I  0  Be-  I  sides,  sir,  j  0  we  shall  |  not  |  fight  our  | 
battles  a-  |  lone.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  There  is  a  |  just  |  God  |  0  who 
pre-  I  sides  |  over  the  |  destinies  of  |  nations ;  [  0  0  |  0  and  | 
who  will  I  raise     up  |  friends  |  0  to  |  fight    our  |  battles  |  for 
us.  J  0  0  I  0  0  I  0  The  |  battle,  |  sir,  |  0  is  |  not  to  the  |  strong 
a-  I  lone,  |  0  0  |  it  |  is  to  the  |  vigilant,  |  0  the  |  active,  |  0  the 

]  brave.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  Be-  |  sides,  sir,  |  0  we  have  |  no  e-  | 
lection.  I  0  0  I  0  0  I  If  we  were  |  base  enough  |  0  to  de-  | 
sire  it,  |  0  it  is  |  now  |  too  J  late  |  0  to  re-  |  tire  from  the  | 
contest.  J  0  0  I  0  0  I  There  is  |  no  re-  [  treat,  |  0  0  |  but  in 
sub-  I  mission  |  0  and  |  slavery.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  Our  j  chains 
are  |  forged.  |  0  0  |  0  0  j  0  Their  |  clanking  |  0  may  be  | 
heard  |  on  the  |  plains  of  |  Boston.  J  0  0  j  0  0  |  0  The  |  war 

I  0  is  in-  I  evitable,  |  0  0  |  and  |  let  it  |  come  !  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 
0  I  re-  I  peat  it,  sir.  |  0  0  |  let  it  J  come  !  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  It  is  in 

I  vain,  sir,  |  0  to  ex-  |  tenuate  the  |  matter.  |  0  0  |  I  |  know 
not  I  what  |  course  |  others  may  |  take ;  |  0  0  |  0  but  |  as  for 

I  me,  I  0  0  I  give  me  |  liberty ;  |  0  0  |  0  or  |  give  me  |  death ! 

I  0  0  I  0  0  1 

VI,     CASSIUS   TO   BRUTUS.  — Shakespeare. 

Dramatic.  —  Notice  the  shrewd,  argumentative  method  of  Cassius. 
High  pitch;  " mental  "  tone ;  many  circumflexes  j  moderate  rate;  radical 
stress;  quotations  in  ita!  i 

Well,  honor  is  the  subject  of  my  story. 

I  cannot  tell  what  you  and  other  men 

Think  of  this  life,  but,  for  my  single  self, 

I  had  as  lief  not  be  as  live  to  be 

In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  I  myself. 

I  was  born  free  as  Caesar;  so  were  you  : 

We  both  have  fed  as  well ;  and  we  can  both 

Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  lie  : 

For  once,  upon  a  r  iw  a  y  day, 

The  troubled  Tyber  chafing  with  her  shores. 


154  EXPRESSION. 

Caesar  said  to  me,  Dar'st  thou,  Cassias,  now 

Leap  in  with  me  into  this  angry  flood, 

And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?     Upon  the  word, 

Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in, 

And  bade  him  follow :  so  indeed  he  did. 

The  torent  roared,  and  we  did  buffet  it 

With  lusty  sinews,  throwing  it  aside 

And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy  ; 

But,  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  propos'd, 

Caesar  cried,  Help  7ne,  Cassius,  or  I  sink/ 

I,  as  y£neas,  our  great  ancestor, 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulder 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so  from  the  waves  of  Tyber 

Did  I  the  tired  Caesar :  and  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body, 

If  Caesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  him. 

He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain  ; 

And  when  the  fit  was  on  him  I  did  mark 

How  he  did  shake  ;  't  is  true,  this  god  did  shake  : 

His  coward  lips  did  from  their  color  fly  ; 

And  that  same  eye,  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world, 

Did  lose  his  lustre.     I  did  hear  him  groan  : 

Ay,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans 

Mark  him,  and  write  his  speeches  in  their  books, 

Alas,  it  cried,  Give  me  some  drink,  Titinius, 

As  a  sick  girl.  —  Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone. 

Brutus  and  Casar:  what  should  be  in  that  C&sar? 

Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours  ? 

Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name ; 

Sound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well ; 

Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy;  conjure  with  them, 

Brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Ccesar. 

Now,  in  the  names  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 

Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Caesar  feed, 

That  he  is  grown  so  great?     Age,  thou  art  sham'd! 


EXPRESSION.  155 

Rome,  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods  ! 
When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  great  flood, 
But  it  was  fam'd  with  more  than  with  one  man  ? 
When  could  they  say,  till  now,  that  talk'd  of  Rome, 
That  her  wide  walls  encompass'd  but  one  man  ? 
Now  is  it  Rome  indeed,  and  room  enough, 
When  there  is  in  it  but  one  only  man. 
O,  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say 
There  was  a  Brutus  once  that  would  have  brook'd 
Th'  eternal  Devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 
As  easily  as  a  king  ! 

VII.     LANGUAGE.  —  Ruskin. 

Didactic  conversational.  —  Medium  pitch  inclining  to  high;  slow  rate  ; 
downward  slides  ;  inclining  to  pure  tone. 

With  regard  to  the  art  of  all  men,  that  of  language,  the 
chief  vices  of  education  have  arisen  from  the  one  great  fallacy 
of  supposing  that  noble  language  is  a  communicable  trick  of 
grammar  and  accent,  instead  of  the  careful  expression  of  right 
thought.  All  the  virtues  of  language  are,  in  their  roots,  moral ; 
it  becomes  accurate  if  the  speaker  desires  to  be  true  ;  clear, 
if  he  speaks  with  sympathy  and  a  desire  to  be  intelligible  ; 
powerful,  if  he  has  earnestness ;  pleasant,  if  he  has  sense  of 
rhythm  and  order. 

There  are  no  other  virtues  of  language  producible  by  art 
than  these  ;  but  let  me  mark  more  deeply  for  an  instant  the 
significance  of  one  of  them.  Language,  I  said,  is  only  clear 
when  it  is  sympathetic.  You  can,  in  truth,  understand  a  man's 
word  only  by  understanding  his  temper.  Your  own  word  is 
also  as  of  an  unknown  tongue  to  him  unless  he  understands 
yours.  And  it  is  this  which  makes  the  art  of  language,  if 
any  one  is  to  be  chosen  separately  from  the  rest,  that  which 
is  fittest  for  the  instrument  of  a  gentleman's  education. 

To  teach  the  meaning  of  a  word  thoroughly,  is  to  teach  the 
nature  of  the  spirit  that  coined  it;  the  secret  of  language  is 
the  secret  of  sympathy,  and  its  full  charm  is  possible  only  to 


156  EXPRESSION. 

the  gentle.  And  thus  the  principles  of  beautiful  speech  have 
all  been  fixed  by  sincere  and  kindly  speech. 

On  the  laws  which  have  been  determined  by  sincerity,  false 
speech,  apparently  beautiful,  may  afterward  be  constructed ; 
but  all  such  utterance,  whether  in  oration  or  poetry,  is  not 
only  without  permanent  power,  but  it  is  destructive  of  the  prin- 
ciples it  has  usurped.  So  long  as  no  words  are  uttered  but 
in  faithfulness,  so  long  the  art  of  language  goes  on  exalting 
itself ;  but  the  moment  it  is  shaped  and  chiselled  on  external 
principles,  it  falls  into  frivolity  and  perishes.  No  noble  nor 
right  style  was  ever  yet  founded  but  out  of  a  sincere  heart. 

No  man  is  worth  studying  to  form  your  style  who  does  not 
mean  what  he  says ;  nor  was  any  great  style  ever  invented 
but  by  some  man  who  meant  what  he  said. 

And  of  yet  greater  importance  is  it  deeply  to  know  that 
every  beauty  possessed  by  the  language  of  a  nation  is  signifi- 
cant of  the  innermost  laws  of  its  being.  Keep  the  temper 
of  the  people  stern  and  manly;  make  their  associations  cour- 
teous, grave,  and  for  worthy  objects ;  occupy  them  in  just  deeds, 
and  their  tongue  must  needs  be  a  grand  one.  Nor  is  it  pos- 
sible, therefore,  that  any  tongue  should  be  a  noble  one,  of 
which  the  words  are  not  so  many  trumpet  calls  to  action.  All 
great  languages  invariably  utter  great  things  and  command 
them;  they  cannot  be  mimicked  but  by  obedience;  the  breath 
of  them  is  inspiration  because  it  is  not  only  vocal  but  vital ; 
and  you  can  only  learn  to  speak  as  these  men  spoke,  by  be- 
coming what  these  men  were. 

VIII.     BUNKER   HILL   MONUMENT.  —  Webster. 

Oratoric.  —  Observe  the  thoughtful,  solid  utterances.  Slow  time, 
medium  to  low  pitch,  full  voice,  downward  slides  (Webster's  delivery 
was  noted  for  the  abundance  of  strong,  downward  slides),  radical  stress. 

We  know,  indeed,  that  the  record  of  illustrious  actions  is 
most  safely  deposited  in  the  universal  remembrance  of  man- 


EXPRESSION.  157 

kind.  We  know,  that  if  we  could  cause  this  structure  to  as- 
cend, not  only  till  it  reached  the  skies,  but  till  it  pierced  them, 
its  broad  surfaces  could  still  contain  but  a  part  of  that  which, 
in  an  age  of  knowledge,  has  already  been  spread  over  the 
earth,  and  which  history  charges  itself  with  making  known 
to  all  future  times.  We  know  that  no  inscription,  no  entab- 
latures less  broad  than  the  earth  itself,  can  carry  information 
of  the  events  we  commemorate  where  it  has  not  already 
gone ;  and  that  no  structure  which  shall  not  outlive  the 
duration  of  letters  and  knowledge  among  men,  can  prolong 
the  memorial.  But  our  object  is,  by  this  edifice  to  show 
our  deep  sense  of  the  value  and  importance  of  the  achieve- 
ments of  our  ancestors ;  and,  by  presenting  this  work  of 
gratitude  to  the  eye,  to  keep  alive  similar  sentiments,  and 
to  foster  a  constant  regard  for  the  principles  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. Human  beings  are  composed,  not  of  reason  only,  but 
of  imagination  also,  and  sentiment ;  and  that  is  neither  wasted 
nor  misapplied,  which  is  appropriated  to  the  purpose  of 
giving  right  direction  to  sentiments,  and  of  opening  proper 
springs  of  feeling  in  the  heart. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  our  object  is  to  perpetuate 
national  hostility,  or  even  to  cherish  a  mere  military  spirit. 

It  is  higher,  purer,  nobler.  We  consecrate  our  work  to  the 
spirit  of  national  independence  ;  and  we  wish  that  the  light 
of  peace  may  rest  upon  it  forever.  We  rear  a  memorial  of 
our  conviction  of  that  unmeasured  benefit  which  has  been 
conferred  on  our  land,  and  of  the  happy  influences  which 
have  been  produced,  by  the  same  events,  on  the  general 
interests  of  mankind.  We  come,  as  Americans,  to  mark  a 
spot  which  must  forever  be  dear  to  us  and  our  posterity. 
We  wish  that  whosoever,  in  all  coming  time,  shall  turn  his 
eye  hither,  may  behold  that  the  place  is  not  undistinguished 
where  the  first  great  battle  of  the  Revolution  was  fought. 
We  wish  that  this  structure  may  proclaim  the  magnitude 
and  importance  of  that  event,  to  every  class  and  every  age. 


I58  EXPRESSION. 

We  wish  that  infancy  may  learn  the  purpose  of  its  erection 
from  maternal  lips ;  and  that  wearied  and  withered  age  may 
behold  it  and  be  solaced  by  the  recollections  which  it  sug- 
gests. We  wish  that  labor  may  look  up  here  and  be  proud 
in  the  midst  of  its  toil.  We  wish  that,  in  those  days  of  dis- 
aster which,  as  they  come  on  all  nations,  may  be  expected 
to  come  on  us  also,  desponding  patriotism  may  turn  its  eyes 
hitherward,  and  be  assured  that  the  foundations  of  our 
national  power  still  stand  strong.  We  wish  that  this  column, 
rising  towards  heaven  among  the  pointed  spires  of  so  many 
temples  dedicated  to  God,  may  contribute  also  to  produce,  in 
all  minds,  a  pious  feeling  of  dependence  and  gratitude.  We 
wish,  finally,  that  the  last  object  on  the  sight  of  him  who 
leaves  his  native  shore,  and  the  first  to  gladden  his  heart  who 
revisits  it,  may  be  something  which  shall  remind  him  of  the 
liberty  and  the  glory  of  his  country.  Let  it  rise  till  it  meets 
the  sun  in  his  coming ,  let  the  earliest  light  of  the  morning 
gild  it,  and  parting  day  linger  and  play  on  its  summit. 

IX.     PSALM  CXXXIX.  —  King  David. 

Solemn  Address.  —  Subjective  and  reverential  attitude,  low  pitch,  long 
quantity,  inclined  to  monotone,  full  tone,  slow  rate,  thorough,  inclined  to 
intermittent  stress. 

O  I  Lord,  0  I  thou  hast  |  searched  me,  |  0  and  |  known  me. 

I  0  0  I  0   0  I  0    Thou  I  knowest    my  |  down-  |  sitting  |  0    and 
mine  |  up-  0  |  rising,  |  0  thou  |  under-  |  standest  my  |  thoughts 

I  0  a-  I  far  I  off.  0  I  0  0  I  0  0  I  Thou  |  compassest  my  |  path, 
0  I  0  and  my  |  lying  |  down,  0  |  and  art  ac-  |  quainted  with  |  all 
my  I  ways.  |  0  0  |  For  there  is  1  not  a  |  word  in  my  |  tongue,  | 
0  but  J  lo,  0  I  O  0  I  Lord,  |  thou  0  |  knowest  it  |  alto-  |  gether. 

I  0  0  I  0  0  I  Thou  hast  be-  |  set  me  |  0  be-  j  hind  and  be-  j  fore, 
0  I  0  and  |  laid  thine  |  hand  up-  |  on  me.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Such  0  | 
knowledge  is  |  too  |  wonderful  for  |  me  :   |  0  0  |  it  is  |  high,  0 

I  0  I  I  cannot  at-  |  tain   unto  it.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Whither  shall  I 


EXPRESSION.  159 

I  go  0  I  0  from  thy  |  spirit  ?  |  0  0  |  0  or  |  whither  shall  I  |  flee 
from  thy  |  presence  ?    |  0  0  |  0  0  |  If  I    as-  |  cend   0  |  up   into 

I  heaven,  |  0  0  |  thou  art  |  there  :    |  0  0  |  if  I  |  make  my  |  bed 
in  I  hell  |  0  be-  |  hold,  0  |  thou   art  |  there.   |  0  0  |  0  0  |  If  I  | 
take  the  |  wings  of  the  |  morning  |  0  and  |  dwell  in  the  |  utter- 
most I  parts  of  the  |  sea:  0  |  0  0  |  Even  |  there  |  0  shall  thy  | 
hand  0  |  lead    me,  |  0  and  thy  |  right  0  |  hand  shall  |  hold  me. 

I  0  0  I  0  0  I   If   I  I  say,  |   Surely   the  |  darkness  shall  |  cover 
me  :  I  0  0  I  even  the  |  night  0  |  0  shall  be  |  light  a-  |  bout  me  : 

I  0  0  I  Yea,  |  0  the  darkness  |  hideth   not  from  |  thee  ;  I  0  0  | 
but  the  I  night  |  shineth  as   the  |  day  :   |  0  0  |  0  the  |  darkness 

!  and   the  |  light  0  |  0   are  |  both    a-  |  like  |  0  to  |  thee.  |  0  0 

10  0  1 

X.     CHAPTER   IX.  — St.  John. 

Thoughtful  Narrative.  —  Observe  the  dignified  and  thoughtful  attitude 
of  Jesus,  the  haughty  bearing  of  the  Pharisees,  the  cautious  manner  of 
the  parents,  the  joyful  manner  of  the  man  with  restored  sight,  and  finally 
his  twitting  of  the  Pharisees.  Medium  rate,  middle  pitch,  long  quantity, 
median  stress,  dramatic  representation  of  the  various  speakers. 

And  as  |  Jesus  |  passed  |  by,  0  f  0  he  |  saw  a  |  man    which 
was  I  blind  from  his  |  birth.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  And  his  dis-  |  ciples 
I  asked   him,  |  saying,  |  Master,  |  who    did  |  sin,   0  |  0  this  | 
man  |  0  or  his  |  parents,  |  that  he  was  |  born  0  |  blind  ?  |  0  0  I 
0  0  I  Jesus  I  answered,  |  Neither  hath  this  |  man  [  sinned  |  nor 
his  I  parents  :    |  0  0  |  but  that  the  |  works  of  |  God  |  0  should 
be  I  made  0  |  manifest  in  |  him.  I  0  0  |  0  0  |  I  must  |  work  the 
]  works  of  I  him  that  |  sent  me,  I  while  it  is  |  day;  |  0  0  |  0  the 
I  night  I  cometh  |  0  when  |  no  0  |  man  |  can  0  |  work.  0  |  0  0 
I  0  0  I  0  As  I  long  I  0  as  I  I  am  in  the  |  world,  0  |  I  |  am  the  | 
light  I  0  of  the  I  world.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  When  he  had  |  thus  0  | 
spoken,  |  0  he  |  spat  on  the  |  ground,  0  |  0  and  |  made  |  clay 
I  0  of  the  I  spittle,  |  and  he  a-  |  nointed  the  |  eyes  0  |  0  of 
the  I  blind  |  man  |  0  with  the  |  clay,  0  |  0  and  |  said  unto  him,  | 
Go,  0  I  wash  in  the  |  pool  of  |  Siloam,  |  0  0   |  {which  is,  by  in- 


l6o  EXPRESSION. 

|  terpre-  \  tation,  \  Sent)  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  He  |  went  his  |  way,  | 
therefore,  |  0  and  |  washed,  |  0  and  |  came  |  seeing.  |  0  0  | 
00  | 

0  The  |  NEIGHBORS  |  therefore,  |  0  and\  they  which  be-  \fore 
had  |  seen  him,  \  that  he  was  |  blind,  |  0  0  |  said,  0  |  Is  not  |  this 
0  |  lie   that  |  sat  and  I  begged?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Some   |  said,  0  | 
This  |  is  |  he,    |  0  0  |  others  |  said,  0  |  He   is  |  like  him  :  |  0  0 

|  0  but  |  he  |  said,  0  |  I  |  am  |  he.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Therefore  | 
said  they  unto  him,  |  0  0  |  How  |  were  thine  |  eyes  |  opened? 

|  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  He  |  answered  and  |  said,  |  0  A  |  man  |  0  that 
is  |  called  |  Jesus  |  made  |  clay,  |  0  and  a-  |  nointed  mine  | 
eyes,  |  0  and  |  said  unto  me,  |  Go  to  the  |  pool  of  |  Siloam,  |  0 
and  |  wash  :  0  |  0  0  |  •  and  I  |  went  and  |  washed,  |  0  and  I 
re-  |  ceived  |  sight..  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Then  I  said  they  unto  him,  |  0 
0  |  Where  |  is  he  ?  j  0  0  |  0  He  |  said,  0  |  0  I  |  know  not.  |  0  0 

I  0  0  | 
0  They  |  brought  to  the  |  Pharisees  |  him  that  a-  |  foretime 

|  0  was  |  blind,  |  0  0  |  And  it  was  the  \  Sabbath  |  day  0  |  0  when 

|  Jesus  |  made  the  \  clay,  |  0  and  \  opened  his  \  eyes.  |  0  0  |  0  0  [ 
Then  a-  |  gain  the  |  Pharisees  [  also  |  asked  him  |  how  he  had 
re-  |  ceived  his  ]  sight.  |  0  0  |  0  He  |  said  unto  1  them,  |  0  He  | 
put  0  |  clay  0  |  0  upon  mine  |  eyes,  |  0  and  I  |  washed  |  and 
do  |  see.  I  0  0  I  0  0  I  Therefore  said  \  some  of  the  \  Pharisees,  \  0 
This  |  man  is  |  not  of  |  God,  |  0  be-  |  cause  |  0  he  |  keepeth 
not   the  |  Sabbath  |  day.  |  0  0  |  Others  |  said,   0  |  How  can  a 

|  man   that  is  a  |  sinner,  |  do   such  |  miracles  ?   |   0  0  |  And 
there  was  |  0  a  di-  |  vision  a-  |  mong  them.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  They 
say  |  unto  the  |  blind  |  man  a-  |  gain,  0  |  0  0  |  What  |  sayest  | 
THOU  of  him  ?  |  that  he   hath  j  opened   thine  |  eyes?  |  0  0  I  0 
He  said,  0  |  He  is  a  |  prophet.  |  0  0  |  0  0  j 

0  But  the  1  Jews  |  did  not  be-  |  lieve  con-  |  cerning  him  |  0 
that  he  |  had  been  \  blind,  |  0  and  re-  \  ceived  his  \  sight,  |  0  un-  | 
til  they  |  called  the  |  parents  of  |  him  that  had  re-  |  ceived  his 

|  sight.  |  0  0  i  0  And  they  |  asked  them,  |  saying,  |  0  0  |  Is  | 
this  your  j  son,  |  who  ye  |  say  |  0  was  |  born  |  blind  ?  0  |  0  0  | 


EXPRESSION.  l6l 

how  |  then  0  |  doth  he  |  now  0  |  see  ?  0  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  His 
|  parents  |  answered  them  |  0  and  |  said,  |  0  0  |  0  We  |  know 
|  that  |  this  is  our  |  son,  0  |  and  that  he  was  |  born  |  blind  :  0 
|  0  0  |  But  by  |  what  0  |  means  |  0  he  |  now  |  seeth,  |  0  we  | 
know  |  xor ;  0  |  0  or  |  who  hath  |  opened  his  |  eyes,  |  0  we  | 
know  not :  |  0  0  |  he  is  of  |  age,  0  |  ask  0  |  him,  0  |  he  shall 
|  speak  for  him-  |  self.  0  |  0  0  |  0  0 

These  I  words  0  |  spake  his  |  parents,  |  0  be-  |  cause  they  | 
feared  the  |  Jews  :  |  0  0  |  0  for  the  |  Jews  had  agreed  al  | 
ready,  |  that  if  |  any  man  |  0  did  |  confess  |  that  he  was  | 
Christ,  |  he  should  be  |  put  0  |  out  of  the  |  synagogue.  [  0  0 
|  0  0  |  Therefore  |  said  his  parents,  |  he  is  of  I  age,  0  |  ask  0  | 
him.  0  I  0  0  I  0  0  I 

Then  a-  |  gain  0  |  called  they  the  |  man  that  was  |  blind,  |  0 
and  |  said,  0  |  Give  0  |  God  the  |  praise  :    |  0  we  |  know  that  | 
this  0  |  man  0  |  0  is  a  |  sinner,  j  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  He  answered  and 
[  said,  0  |  Whether  he  |  be  a  |  sinner  or  |  no,  0  |  0  I  |  know 
not ;    |  0  0  |  one  |  thing  I  |  know,  [  0  that  where-  |  as  I  |  was  0 
|  blind  0  |  0  0  |  now  0  |  0   I  |  see.   |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Then  0  |  said 
they  |  to  him  a-  |  gain,  0  |  What  did  he  to  thee  ?  |  0  0  |  How  0 
I  opened  he  thine  |  eyes  ?    j  0  0  [  0  0  ]  0  He  answered  them, 
|  0  I  have  |  told  you  al-  |  ready,  |  0  and  ye  |  did  not  |  hear  : 
|  0  0  |  wherefore  |  would  ye  |  hear  it  a-  |  gain?    |  0  0  |  0  Will 
|  ye  I  also  |  be  his  dis-  |  ciples  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  Then  they  re-  | 
viled  him,  |  0  and  |  said,  |  Thou   art  |  his  dis-  |  ciple ;  |  0  but 
|  we  are  |  Moses'  dis-  |  ciples.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  We  |  know  that 
God  0  |  spake  unto  |  Moses:    |  0  0  (  as  for  |  this  0  |  fellow, 
i  0  we  |  know  not  from  |  whence  he  |  is.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  The 
|  man  |  answered    and  |  said    unto    them,   I   0    0   |   Why,    0  | 
herein  |  0  is  a  |  marvellous  |  thing,  |  0   that  ye  |  know  not 
from  |  whence  he  |  is,  0  |  0  and  \  yet  he  hath  \  opened  mine  \  eyes. 
|  0  0  |  0  0  |  Now  we  |  know  that  |  God  0  |  heareth  not  |  sin- 
ners :   |  0  0  |  but  if  |  any  man  |  be   a  |  worshipper  of  |  God, 
0  |  0  and  |  doeth  his  |  will,  0  |  him  he  |  heareth.  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 
Since  the  |  world  be-  |  gan  0  |  it  was  not  |  heard,  |  0  that  |  any 
1 1 


l62  EXPRESSION. 

man  |  opened  the  |  eyes  of  |  one  that  was  |  born  0  |  blind.  0  | 
0  0  |  0  If  |  this  |  man  were  |  not  of  |  God,  |  0  he  could  |  do  | 
NOTHING.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  They  |  answered  and  |  said  unto  him, 
|  0  0  |  Thou  wast  |  alto-  |  gether  |  born  in  |  sins,    |  0  and  dost 
|  thou  |  teach  0  |  us  ?  |  0  0  |  And  they  |  cast  him  |  out.  |  0  0  | 
00  | 

Jesus  |  heard  that  they  had  |  cast   him  |  out ;   0  |  0  and  | 
when  he  had  |  found  him,  |  0  he  |  said  unto  him,  I    0  0  |  Dost 
thou  be-  |  lieve   on   the  |  Son   of  |  God  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  He  I 
answered   and  |  said,  0  |  Who  |  is    he,  |  Lord?  |  0  0  |  that   I  | 
might  be-  |  lieve  on  him  ?  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  0  And  |  Jesus  |  said  unto 
him,  |  0  0  |  Thou  hast  both  |  seen    him,  |  0  0  |  and  it  is  |  he 
that  |  talketh  with  thee.  |  0  0  |  0  0  |  And  he  |  said,  0  |  Lord, 
|  0  I  be-  |  lieve.  |  0  0  |  And  he  |  worshipped  him.  | 

XI.     THE   SURE   REWARD. —J    G.  Whittier. 

Emotional  Narrative.  —  Moderate  rate;  middle  pitch;  median  stress; 
long  quantity. 

1.  It  may  not  be  our  lot  to  wield 
The  sickle  in  the  ripened  field ; 
Nor  ours  to  hear  on  summer  eves 
The  reaper's  song  among  the  sheaves. 

2.  Yet  where  our  duty's  task  is  wrought 
In  unison  with  God's  great  thought, 
The  near  and  future  blend  in  one, 
And  whatsoe'er  is  willed,  is  done. 

3.  And  ours  the  grateful  service  whence 
Comes,  day  by  day,  the  recompense ; 
The  hope,  the  trust,  the  purpose  stayed, 
The  fountain,  and  the  noonday  shade. 

..     And  were  this  life  the  utmost  span, 
The  only  end  and  aim  of  man, 
Better  the  toil  of  fields  like  these, 
Than  waking  dream  and  slothful  ease. 


EXPRESSION.  163 

But  life,  though  falling  like  our  grain, 
Like  thaj  revives  and  springs  again ; 
And,  early  called,  how  blest  are  they 
Who  wait  in  heaven  their  harvest  day. 


XII.     FULNESS   OF   LOVE.  —  Charles  Wesley. 

Emotional  Narrative  — Middle   pitch,  moderate   rate;  full  tone;   me- 
dian stress  ;  long  quantity. 

1.  O  I  Love  Di-  I  vine,  0  |  how  |  sweet  |  thou  art !  |  0  0  | 
When  I  shall  I  |  find  my  |  willing  |  heart  0  ( 

All  ta-  I  ken  up  |  by  thee  ?  |  0  0  | 
I  thirst,  I  0  0  I  I  faint,  ,  0  0  |  I  die  |  0  to  |  prove 
The  I  greatness  |  of  redeem-  |  ing  love,  |  0 

The  I  love  of  j  Christ  0  |  to  me.  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 

2.  Stronger  ]  his  love  |  than  death  |  or  hell;  |  0  0  | 
Its  rich    I  es  0  I  are  un-  |  searcha-  |  ble ;  0  j  0  0  | 

The  first-  |  born  |  sons  of  |  light  0  j 
Desire  |  in  vain  |  its  depths  |  to  see;  |  0  0  |  0  |  0  | 
They  can    |  not  reach  |  the  mys-  |  tery,  0  | 

The  length,  |  0  0  |  the  breadth,  |  0  0  |  the  height.  |  0  0  |  0  0  J 


O  I  that  I  I  could  for-  (  ever  sit  [ 

With  Mary  |  0  at     the  Mas-  |  ter's  feet!  |  0  0  | 

Be  this  j  0  my  |  happy  |  choice ;  0  |  0  0  | 
My  on-  I  ly  care,  J  0  0  |  delight.  |  0  0  |  and  bliss,  |  0  0  | 
My  joy,  I  0  0  |  my  hea-  |  ven  on  I  earth,  0  j  be  this,  |  0 

To  j  hear  the  |  Bride-  |  groom's  |  voice.  0  |  0  0  |  0  0  | 

O  I  that  I  I  could,  0  |  with  fa-  |  vored  John,  0 
Ke-  I  dine  my  |  weary  j  head  0  |  upon 

The  I  dear  Re-  |  deemer"s  j  breast !  0  |  0  0  | 
From  care.  |  0  0  |  and  sin.  |  0  0  |  and  sor-  |  row  free,  J  0  0 
Give  me,  |  O  |  Lord.  |  0  to  |  find  0  |  in  thee  | 

My  ever-  |  lusting  |  rest.  0  | 


SELECTIONS. 


CONVERSATIONAL.  —  DESCRIPTIVE.  —  DIDACTIC. 
NARRATIVE.  —  FORENSIC. 


XIII.    COLLOQUIAL   POWERS   OF   DR.   FRAXKLIX.  —  Wirt. 

Never  have  I  known  such  a  fireside  companion.  Great  as 
he  was,  both  as  a  statesman  and  as  a  philosopher,  he  never 
shone  in  a  light  more  winning  than  when  he  was  seen  in  a 
domestic  circle.  It  was  once  my  good  fortune  to  pass  two  or 
three  weeks  with  him,  at  the  house  of  a  private  gentleman, 
in  the  back  part  of  Pennsylvania;  and  we  were  confined  to 
the  house  during  the  whole  of  that  time,  by  the  unintermit- 
ting  constancy  and  depth  of  the  snows.  But  confinement 
could  never  be  felt  where  Franklin  was  an  inmate.  His  cheer- 
fulness and  his  colloquial  powers  spread  around  him  a  perpet- 
ual spring.  When  I  speak,  however,  of  his  colloquial  powers, 
I  do  not  mean  to  awaken  any  notion  analogous  to  that  which 
Boswell  has  given  us  when  he  so  frequently  mentions  the  col 
loquial  powers  of  Dr.  Johnson.  The  conversation  of  the 
latter  continually  reminds  one  of  "  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  glorious  war."  It  was,  indeed,  a  perpetual  con- 
test for  victory,  or  an  arbitrary  and  despotic  exaction  of  hom- 
age to  his  superior  talents.  It  was  strong,  acute,  prompt, 
splendid,  and  vociferous  ;  as  loud,  stormy,  and  sublime  as 
those  winds  which  he  represents  as  shaking  the  Hebrides,  and 
rocking  the  old  castles  that  frowned  upon  the  dark  rolling  sea 
beneath.  But  one  gets  tired  of  storms,  however  sublime  they 
may  be,  and  longs  for  the  more  orderly  current  of  nature. 
Of  Franklin,  no  one  ever  became  tired.  There  was  no  am- 
bition of  eloquence,  no  effort  to  shine,  in  anything  which 
came  from  him.  There  was  nothing  which  made  any  demand 
either  upon  your  allegiance  or  your  admiration. 


l66  SELECTIONS. 

His  manner  was  as  unaffected  as  infancy.  It  was  nature's 
self.  He  talked  like  an  old  patriarch,  and  his  plainness  and 
simplicity  put  you,  at  once,  at  your  ease,  and  gave  you  the  full 
and  free  possession  and  use  of  all  your  faculties. 

His  thoughts  were  of  a  character  to  shine  by  their  own 
light,  without  any  adventitious  aid.  They  required  only  a 
medium  of  vision  like  his  pure  and  simple  style,  to  exhibit, 
to  the  highest  advantage,  their  native  radiance  and  beauty. 
His  cheerfulness  was  unremitting.  It  seemed  to  be  as  much 
the  effect  of  a  systematic  and  salutary  exercise  of  the  mind, 
as  of  its  superior  organization.  His  wit  was  of  the  first  order. 
It  did  not  show  itself  merely  in  occasional  coruscations ;  but, 
without  any  effort  or  force  on  his  part,  it  shed  a  constant 
stream  of  the  purest  light  over  the  whole  of  his  discourse. 
Whether  in  the  company  of  commons  or  nobles,  he  was 
always  the  same,  plain  man;  always  most  perfectly  at  his 
ease,  with  his  faculties  in  full  play,  and  the  full  orbit  of  his 
genius  forever  clear  and  unclouded.  And,  then,  the  stores  of 
his  mind  were  inexhaustible.  He  had  commenced  life  with 
an  attention  so  vigilant,  that  nothing  had  escaped  his  obser- 
vation, and  a  judgment  so  solid,  that  every  incident  was 
turned  to  advantage.  His  youth  had  not  been  wasted  in 
idleness,  nor  overcast  by  intemperance.  He  had  been  all  his 
life  a  close  and  deep  reader,  as  well  as  thinker;  and,  by 
the  force  of  his  own  powers,  had  wrought  up  the  raw  mate- 
rials which  he  had  gathered  from  books,  with  such  exquisite 
skill  and  felicity,  that  he  had  added  a  hundred-fold  to  their 
original  value,  and  justly  made  them  his  own. 

XIV.    THE   BELL   OF  LIBERTY.  —  Headley. 

i.  The  representatives  of  the  people  assembled  in  solemn 
conclave,  and  long  and  anxiously  surveyed  the  perilous  ground 
on  which  they  were  treading.  To  recede  was  now  impossible  ; 
to  go  on  seemed  fraught  with  terrible  consequences. 


THE    BELL    OF    LIBERTY.  167 

2.  The  result  of  the  long  and  fearful  conflict  that  must 
follow  was  more  than  doubtful.  For  twenty  days  Congress 
was  tossed  on  a  sea  of  perplexity.  At  length  Richard  Henry 
Lee,  shaking  off  the  fetters  that  galled  his  noble  spirit,  arose 
on  the  7th  of  June,  and  in  a  clear,  deliberate  tone,  every  ac- 
cent of  which  rung  to  the  farthest  extremity  of  the  silent  hall, 
proposed  the  following  resolution  :  — 

3.  "  Resolved,  That  these  United  Colonies  are,  and  ought 
to  be,  free  and  independent  States,  and  all  political  connection 
between  us  and  the  States  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to 
be,  totally  dissolved." 

4.  John  Adams,  in  whose  soul  glowed  the  burning  future, 
seconded  the  resolution  in  a  speech  so  full  of  impassioned 
fervor,  thrilling  eloquence,  and  prophetic  power  that  Congress 
was  carried  away  before  it,  as  by  a  resistless  wave. 

5.  The  die  was  cast,  and  every  man  was  now  compelled 
to  meet  the  dreadful  issue.  The  resolution  was  finally  de- 
ferred to  the  1  st  of  July,  to  allow  a  committee,  appointed  for 
that  purpose,  to  draft  a  Declaration  of  Independence. 

6.  When  the  day  arrived,  the  Declaration  was  taken  up 
and  debated,  article  by  article.  The  discussion  continued  for 
three  days,  and  was  characterized  by  great  excitement.  At 
length,  the  various  sections  having  been  gone  through  with, 
the  next  day,  July  4,  was  appointed  for  final  action. 

7.  It  was  soon  known  throughout  the  city  ;  and  in  the 
morning,  before  Congress  assembled,  the  streets  were  filled 
with  excited  men,  some  gathered  in  groups,  engaged  in  eager 
discussion,  and  others  moving  toward  the  State  House.  All 
business  was  forgotten  in  the  momentous  crisis  which  the 
country  had  now  reached. 

8.  No  sooner  had  the  members  taken  their  seats  than  the 
multitude  gathered  in  a  dense  mass  around  the  entrance. 
The  bellman  mounted  to  the  belfry,  to  be  ready  to  proclaim  the 
joyful  tidings  of  freedom  as  soon  as  the  final  vote  had  passed. 
A  bright-eyed  boy  was  stationed  below  to  give  the  signal. 


l68  SELECTIONS. 

9.  Around  that  bell,  brought  from  England,  had  been  cast, 
more  than  twenty  years  before,  the  prophetic  motto, 

"  PROCLAIM  LIBERTY  THROUGHOUT  ALL  THE  LAND  UNTO 
ALL  THE  INHABITANTS  THEREOF." 

Although  its  loud  clang  had  often  sounded  over  the  city,  the 
proclamation  engraved  on  its  iron  lip  had  never  yet  been 
spoken  aloud. 

10.  It  was  expected  that  the  final  vote  would  be  taken 
without  delay,  but  hour  after  hour  wore  on,  and  no  report 
came  from  that  mysterious  hall  where  the  fate  of  a  continent 
was  in  suspense.  The  multitude  grew  impatient;  the  old 
man  leaned  over  the  railing,  straining  his  eyes  downward,  till 
his  heart  misgave  him,  and  hope  yielded  to  fear. 

11.  But  at  length,  at  about  two  o'clock,  the  door  of  the 
hall  opened,  and  a  voice  exclaimed,  "  It  has  passed!  "  The 
words  leaped  like  lightning  from  lip  to  lip,  followed  by  huzzas 
that  shook  the  building.  The  boy-sentinel  turned  to  the  bel- 
fry, clapped  his  hands,  and  shouted,  "  Ring  !  ring  !  " 

12.  The  desponding  bellman,  electrified  into  life  by  the 
joyful  news,  seized  the  iron  tongue,  and  hurled  it  backward 
and  forward  with  a  clang  that  startled  every  heart  in  Phila- 
delphia like  a  bugle  blast.  "Clang!  clang! "the  Bell  of 
Liberty  resounded  on,  ever  higher  and  clearer  and  more  joy- 
ous, blending  in  its  deep  and  thrilling  vibrations,  and  pro- 
claiming in  long  and  loud  accents  over  all  the  land,  the  motto 
that  encircled  it. 

13.  Glad  messengers  caught  the  tidings  as  they  floated  out 
on  the  air,  and  sped  off  in  every  direction  to  bear  them  on- 
ward. When  they  reached  New  York,  the  bells  rang  out  the 
glorious  news,  and  the  excited  multitude,  surging  hither  and 
thither,  at  length  gathered  around  the  Bowling  Green,  and, 
seizing  the  leaden  statue  of  George  III.,  which  stood  there, 
tore  it  into  fragments.  These  were  afterward  run  into  bullets 
and  hurled  against  his  Majesty's  troops. 


TO    THE    CUCKOO.  169 

14.  When  the  Declaration  arrived  in  Boston,  the  people 
gathered  to  old  Faneuil  Hall  to  hear  it  read ;  and  as  the  last 
sentence  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  reader,  a  loud  shout  went  up, 
and  soon  from  ever)'  fortified  height  and  every  battery  the 
thunder  of  cannon  re-echoed  the  joy. 

XV.    TO  THE  CUCKOO.  — Wordsworth. 

O  blithe  new-comer  !   I  have  heard, 

I  hear  thee  and  rejoice. 
O  cuckoo  !  shall  I  call  thee  bird, 

Or  but  a  wandering:  voice  ? 


'& 


While  I  am  lying  here  on  the  grass, 

Thy  twofold  shouts  I  hear ; 
From  hill  to  hill  it  seems  to  pass, 

At  once  far  off  and  near. 

Thrice  welcome,  darling  of  the  spring ! 

Even  yet  thou  art  to  me 
No  bird,  but  an  invisible  thing, 

A  voice,  a  mystery ; 

The  same  whom  in  my  school-boy's  days 

I  listened  to  :  that  cry 
Which  made  me  look  a  thousand  ways, 

In  bush,  and  tree,  and  sky. 

To  seek  thee  did  I  often  rove 

Through  woods  and  on  the  green  ; 

And  thou  wert  still  a  hope,  a  love ; 
Still  long'd  for,  never  seen. 

And  I  can  listen  to  thee  yet ; 

Can  lie  upon  the  plain 
And  listen,  till  I  do  beget 

That  golden  time  again. 

o  blessed  bird  !  the  earth  wc  pace 

Again  appears  to  be 
An  unsubstantial  faery  place, 

That  is  fit  home  for  thee  ! 


\JO  SELECTIONS. 


XVI.     THE  BOSTON   MASSACRE.  —  Bancroft. 

1.  On  Friday,  the  2d  of  March,  1770,  a  British  soldier 
of  the  29th  Regiment  asked  to  be  employed  at  Gray's 
rope-walk,  and  was  repulsed  in  the  coarsest  words.  He 
then  defied  the  rope-makers  to  a  boxing  match  ;  and,  oJie  of 
them  accepting  his  challenge,  he  was  beaten  off.  Returning 
with  several  of  his  companions,  they  too  were  driven  away. 
\  larsrer  number  came  down  to  renew  the  fight  with  clubs  and 
cutlasses,  and  in  their  turn  encountered  defeat. 

2.  There  was  an  end  to  the  affair  at  the  rope-walk,  but  not 
at  the  barracks,  where  the  soldiers  inflamed  each  others'  pas- 
sions, as  if  the  honor  of  the  regiment  had  been  tarnished. 

3.  On  Saturday  they  prepared  bludgeons ;  and  being  re- 
solved to  brave  the  citizens  on  Monday  night,  they  forewarned 
their  particular  acquaintances  not  to  be  abroad. 

4.  Evening  came  on.  The  young  moon  was  shining  in  a 
cloudless  winter  sky,  and  its  light  was  increased  by  a  new 
fallen  snow.  Parties  of  soldiers  were  driving  about  the  streets, 
making  a  parade  of  valor,  challenging  resistance,  and  striking 
the  inhabitants  indiscriminately  with  sticks  or  sheathed  cut- 
lasses. 

5.  A  band,  which  rushed  out  from  the  barracks  in  Brattle 
Street,  armed  with  clubs,  cutlasses,  and  bayonets,  provoked 
resistance,  and  an  affray  ensued.  An  ensign  at  the  gate  of  the 
barrack  yard  cried  to  the  soldiers,  "  Turn  out,  and  I  will 
stand  by  you ;  kill  them  ;  stick  them ;  knock  them  down  ;  run 
your  bayonets  through  them  !  "  And  one  soldier  after  another 
levelled  a  firelock,  and  threatened  to  "  make  a  lane  "  through 
the  crowd. 

6.  Just  before  nine,  as  an  officer  crossed  King  Street,  a 
barber's  lad  cried  after  him,  "  There  goes  a  mean  fellow  who 
hath  not  paid  my  master  for  dressing  his  hair  "  ;  on  which  a 
sentinel  left  his  post,  and  with  his  musket  gave  the  boy  a 
stroke  on  the  head  which  made  him  stagger  and  cry  for  pain. 


THE    BOSTON    MASSACRE.  \"J \ 

7.  The  street  soon  became  clear,  and  nobody  troubled  the 
sentry,  when  a  party  of  soldiers  issued  violently  from  the 
main  guard,  their  arms  glittering  in  the  moonlight,  and  passed 
on  hallooing,  "  Where  art*  they  ?  where  are  they  ?  let  them 
come  !  " 

8.  "  Pray,  soldiers,  F.f.are  my  life  !  "  cried  a  boy  of  twelve, 
whom  they  met.  "  No;  no;  we  will  kill  you  all !"  answered 
one  of  them,  and  knocked  him  down  with  his  cutlass.  They 
abused  and  insulted  several  persons  at  their  doors  and  others 
'.n  the  street,  running  about  like  madmen  in  a  fury,  crying, 
"  Fire  !"  which  seemed  their  watchword,  and,  "Where  are 
they?  knock  them  down  !"  Their  outrageous  behavior  occa- 
sioned the  ringing  of  the  bell  at  the  head  of  King  Street. 

9.  The  citizens  whom  the  alarm  set  in  motion  came  out 
with  canes  and  clubs  ;  a  body  of  soldiers  also  came  up,  crying, 

•  Where   are   the   cowards  ? "    and   brandishing    their    arms. 

rrom  ten  to  twenty  boys  came  after  them,  asking,  "  Where 
«  re  they;  where  are  they?"  "There  is  the  soldier  who 
knocked  me  down,"  said  the  barber's  boy  ;  and  they  began 
pushing  one  another  towards  the  sentinel.  He  primed  and 
loaded  his  musket. 

10.  "  The  lobster  is  going  to  fire,"  cried  a  boy.  Waving 
his  piece  about,  the  sentinel  pulled  the  trigger.  "  If  you  fire, 
you  must  die  for  it,"  said  one  who  was  passing  by.  "  I  don't 
care,"  replied  the  sentry;  "if  they  touch  me,  I  will  fire." 
"  Fire  away ! "  shouted  the  boys,  persuaded  he  could  not  do  it 
without  leave  from  a  civil  officer  ;  and  a  young  fellow  spoke 
out,  "  We  will  knock  him  down  for  snapping  "  ;  while  they 
whistled  through  their  fingers  and  huzzaed. 

ii.  "Stand  off,"  said  the  sentry,  and  shouted  aloud, 
"  Turn  out,  main  guard  !  "  "  They  are  killing  the  sentinel," 
reported  a  servant,  running  to  the  main  guard.  "Turn  out; 
why  don't  you  turn  out  ?  "  cried  Preston,  who  was  captain  of 
the  day,  to  the  guard.  A  party  of  six  formed  with  a  corporal 
in  front,  and  Preston  following.     With  bayonets  fixed,  they 


172  SELECTIONS. 

haughtily  rushed  through  the  people,  upon  the  trot,  cursing 
them,  and  pushing  them  as  they  went  along. 

12.  They  found  about  ten  persons  round  the  sentry,  while 
about  fifty  or  sixty  came  down  with  them.  "  For  God's  sake," 
said  a  citizen,  holding  Preston  by  the  coat,  "  take  your  men 
back  again  j  if  they  fire,  your  life  must  answer  for  the  con- 
sequences." "  I  know  what  I  am  about."  said  he  hastily,  and 
much  agitated. 

13.  None  pressed  on  them  or  provoked  them  till  they 
began  loading,  when  a  party  about  twelve  in  number,  with 
sticks  in  their  hands,  moved  from  the  middle  of  the  street, 
where  they  had  been  standing,  gave  three  cheers,  and  passed 
along  the  front  of  the  soldiers,  whose  muskets  some  of  them 
struck  as  they  went  by.  "  You  are  cowardly  rascals,"  said 
they,  "  for  bringing  arms  against  naked  men.  Lay  aside  your 
guns,  and  we  are  ready  for  you.  Come  on,  you  lobster  scoun- 
drels ;  fire,  if  you  dare  ;  we  know  you  dare  not." 

14.  Just  then  one  of  the  soldiers  received  a  blow  from  a 
stick  thrown,  which  hit  his  musket ;  and  the  word-"  Fire  !  " 
being  given,  he  stepped  a  little  on  one  side,  and  shot  a  mulatto, 
who  at  the  time  was  quietly  leaning  on  a  long  stick. 

15.  The  people  immediately  began  to  move  off.  The  rest 
fired  slowly  and  in  succession  on  the  people  who  were  dis- 
persing. One  aimed  deliberately  at  a  boy  who  was  running 
for  safety.  Three  persons  were  killed  ;  eight  were  wounded, 
two  of  them  mortally.  Of  all  the  eleven,  not  more  than  one 
had  any  share  in  the  disturbance. 

16.  So  infuriated  were  the  soldiers  that,  when  the  men 
returned  to  take  up  the  dead,  they  prepared  to  fire  again, 
but  were  checked  by  Preston,  while  the  29th  Regiment  ap- 
peared under  arms  in  King  Street,  as  if  bent  on  a  further 
massacre.  "  This  is  our  time,"  cried  the  soldiers  ;  and  dogs 
were  never  seen  more  greedy  for  their  prey. 

17.  The  bells  rung  in  all  the  churches;  the  town  diums 
beat.     "  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  "  was  the  cry.     And  now  was  to 


RIP    VAN    WINKLE'S    AWAKENING.  1 73 

be  tested  the  true  character  of  Boston.  All  its  sons  came 
forth,  excited  almost  to  madness  ;  many  were  absolutely  dis- 
tracted by  the  sight  of  the  dead  bodies  and  of  the  blood,  which 
ran  plentifully  in  the  streets,  and  was  imprinted  in  all  direc- 
tions by  the  foot-tracks  on  the  snow. 

iS.  '•  Our  hearts,"  says  Warren,  "  beat  to  arms,  almost 
resolved  by  one  stroke  to  avenge  the  death  of  our  slaughtered 
brethren."  But  they  stood  self-possessed  and  irresistible, 
demanding  justice  according  to  law. 

19.  The  people  would  not  be  pacified  till  the  regiment 
was  confined  to  the  guard-room  and  the  barracks  ;  and  the 
governor  himself  gave  assurance  that  instant  inquiries  should 
be  made  by  the  county  magistrates.  A  warrant  was  issued 
against  Preston,  who  surrendered  himself  to  the  sheriff ;  and 
the  soldiers  who  composed  the  party  were  delivered  up  and 
committed  to  prison. 

XVII.     RIP  VAN   WINKLE'S  AWAKENING.  —  Irving. 

Part  I. 

1.  On  waking.  Rip  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll 
overlooking  the  glen.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  —  it  was  a  bright 
sunny  morning.  The  birds  were  hopping  and  twittering  among 
the  bushes,  and  the  eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting 
the  pure  mountain  breeze.  "  Surely,"  thought  Rip.  "  I  have 
not  slept  here  all  night." 

2.  He  recalled  the  occurrences  before  he  fell  asleep  — 
the  mountain  ravine — the  party  at  nine-pins  —  the  flagon  — 
"Oh!  that  wicked  flagon!"  thought  Rip;  "what  excuse 
shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van  Winkle  ?  " 

3.  He  looked  round  for  his  gun  ;  but,  in  place  of  the  clean, 
well-oiled  fowling-piece,  he  found  an  old  firelock  lying  by 
him,  the  barrel  incrusted  with  rust,  the  lock  falling  off,  the 
stock  worm-eaten.  He  now  suspected  that  the  grave  roisters 
of  the  mountain  had  put  a  trick  upon  him,  and,  having  dosed 
him  with  liquor,  robbed  him  of  his  gun. 


174  SELECTIONS. 

4.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared  ;  but  he  might  have  strayed 
away  after  a  squirrel  or  a  partridge.  He  whistled  after  him, 
and  shouted  his  name,  but  all  in  vain  ;  the  echoes  repeated 
his  whistle  and  shout,  but  no  dog  was  to  be  seen. 

5.  He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of  the  last  evening's 
gambol,  and,  if  he  met  with  any  of  the  party,  to  demand  his 
dog  and  gun.  As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found  himself  stiff  in 
the  joints,  and  wanting  in  his  usual  activity.  "  These  moun- 
tain beds  do  not  agree  with  me,"  thought  Rip  ;  "  and  if  this 
frolic  should  lay  me  up  with  a  fit  of  the  rheumatism,  I  shall 
have  a  blessed  time  with  Dame  Van  Winkle." 

6.  With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  into  the  glen ;  he 
found  the  gully  up  which  he  had  ascended  the  preceding 
evening  ;  but  to  his  astonishment  a  mountain  stream  was  now 
foaming  down  it,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  filling  the 
glen  with  babbling  murmurs. 

7.  He,  however,  made  shift  to  scramble  up  its  sides, 
working  his  toilsome  way  through  thickets  of  birch,  sassafras, 
and  witch-hazel ;  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or  entangled  by 
the  wild  grape-vines  that  twisted  their  coils  and  tendrils 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  spread  a  kind  of  network  in  his 
path. 

8.  Here  poor  Rip  was  brought  to  a  stand.  He  again 
called  and  whistled  after  his  dog ;  he  was  answered  only  by 
the  cawing  of  a  flock  of  idle  crows,  which  were  sporting  high 
in  air  about  a  withered  tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice, 
and  which,  secure  in  their  elevation,  seemed  to  look  down 
and  scoff  at  the  poor  man's  perplexities. 

9.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  morning  was  passing 
away,  and  Rip  felt  famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.  He 
grieved  to  give  up  his  dog  and  gun  ;  he  dreaded  to  meet  his 
wife ;  but  it  would  not  do  to  starve  among  the  mountains. 
He  shook  his  head,  shouldered  the  rusty  firelock,  and,  with 
a  heart  full  of  trouble  and  anxiety,  turned  his  steps  home- 
ward. 


RIP    VAN    WINKLES    AWAKENING.  1 75 

10.  As  he  approached  the  village  he  met  a  number  of 
people,  but  none  whom  he  knew  ;  which  somewhat  surprised 
him,  for  he  had  thought  himself  acquainted  with  every  one  in 
the  country  round.  Their  dress,  too,  was  of  a  different  fash- 
ion from  that  to  which  he  was  accustomed. 

1 1.  They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of  surprise, 
and,  whenever  they  cast  eyes  upon  him,  invariably  stroked 
their  chins.  The  constant  recurrence  of  this  gesture  induced 
Rip  involuntarily  to  do  the  same,  when,  to  his  astonishment, 
he  found  his  beard  had  grown  a  foot  long  ! 

12.  He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the  village.  A 
troop  of  strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after  him, 
and  pointing  at  his  gray  beard.  The  dogs,  too,  not  one  of 
which  he  recognized  for  an  old  acquaintance,  barked  at  him 
as  he  passed.  The  very  village  was  altered  :  it  was  larger 
and  more  populous. 

13.  There  were  rows  of  houses  which  he  had  never  seen 
before,  and  those  which  had  been  his  familiar  haunts  had 
disappeared.  Strange  names  were  over  the  doors  —  strange 
faces  at  the  windows — everything  was  strange.  His  mind 
now  misgave  him  ;  he  began  to  doubt  whether  both  he  and 
the  world  around  him  were  not  bewitched. 

14.  Surely  this  was  his  native  village,  which  he  had  left 
but  a  dav before.  There  stood  the  Catskill  Mountains:  there 
ran  the  silver  Hudson  at  a  distance ;  there  was  every  hill 
and  dale  precisely  as  it  had  always  been.  Rip  was  sorely 
perplexed.  "  That  flagon  last  night,"  thought  he,  "  has 
addled  my  poor  head  sadly  !" 

15.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found  the  way  to 
his  own  house,  which  he  approached  with  silent  awe,  expecting 
every  moment  to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame  Van  Winkle. 
He  found  the  house  gone  to  decay  —  the  roof  fallen  in,  the 
windows  shattered,  and  the  doors  off  the  hinges. 

16.  A  half-starved  dog,  that  looked  like  Wolf,  was  skulk- 
ing about  it.     Rip  called  him  by  name,  but  the  cur  snarled, 


I76  SELECTIONS. 

showed  his  teeth,  and  passed  on.  This  was  an  unkind  cut 
indeed.  "My  very  dog,"  sighed  poor  Rip,  "has  forgotten 
me!" 

17.  He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  Dame 
Van  Winkle  had  always  kept  in  neat  order.  It  was  empty, 
forlorn,  and  apparently  abandoned.  This  desolateness  over- 
came all  his  connubial  fears.  He  called  loudly  for  his  wife 
and  children.  The  lonely  chambers  rang  for  a  moment  with 
his  voice,  and  then  all  again  was  silence. 

XVIII.     RIP  VAN   WINKLE'S  AWAKENING. 
Part  II. 

18.  He  now  hurried  forth  and  hastened  to  his  old  resort, 
the  village  inn  ;  but  it,  too,  was  gone.  A  large  rickety  wooden 
building  stood  in  its  place,  with  great  gaping  windows,  some 
of  them  broken,  and  mended  with  old  hats  and  petticoats, 
and  over  the  door  was  painted,  "  The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jona- 
than Doolittle." 

19.  Instead  of  the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet 
little  Dutch  inn  of  yore,  there  now  was  reared  a  tall  naked 
pole,  with  something  on  the  top  that  looked  like  a  red  night- 
cap ;  and  from  it  was  fluttering  a  flag,  on  which  was  a  singular 
assemblage  of  stars  and  stripes.  All  this  was  strange  and 
incomprehensible. 

20.  He  recognized  on  the  sign,  however,  the  ruby  face  of 
King  George,  under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many  a  peace- 
ful pipe;  but  even  this  was  singularly  metamorphosed.  The 
red  coat  was  changed  for  one  of  blue  and  buff  ;  a  sword  was 
held  in  the  hand  instead  of  a  sceptre  ;  the  head  was  decorated 
with  a  cocked  hat,  and  underneath  was  painted  in  large  char- 
acters, General  Washington. 

21.  There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folk  about  the  door, 
but  none  that  Rip  recollected.  The  very  character  of  the 
people  seemed  changed.  There  was  a  busy,  bustling,  dispu- 
tatious tone  about  it,  instead  of  the  accustomed  phlegm  and 


RIP   VAN    WINKLE'S   AWAKENING.  \J7 

drowsy  tranquillity.  He  looked  in  vain  for  the  sage  Nicholas 
Vedder,  with  his  broad  face,  double  chin,  and  fair  long  pipe, 
uttering  clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  instead  of  idle  speeches  ; 
or  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster,  doling  forth  the  contents 
of  an  ancient  newspaper. 

22.  In  place  of  these,  a  lean  bilious-looking  fellow,  with 
his  pockets  full  of  hand-bills,  was  haranguing  vehemently 
about  rights  of  citizens  —  election  —  members  of  Congress  — 
liberty  —  Bunker's  Hill  —  heroes  of  seventy-six  —  and  other 
words  that  were  a  perfect  jargon  to  the  bewildered  Van 
Winkle. 

23.  The  appearance  of  Rip  with  his  long  grizzled  beard, 
his  rusty  fowling-piece,  his  uncouth  dress,  and  the  army  of 
women  and  children  that  had  gathered  at  his  heels,  soon  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  tavern  politicians. 

24.  They  crowded  round  him,  eying  him  from  head  to 
foot  with  great  curiosity.  The  orator  bustled  rp  to  him,  and 
drawing  him  partly  aside,  inquired  "on  which  side  he  voted." 
Rip  started  in  vacant  stupidity. 

25.  Another  short  but  busy  little  fellow  pulled  him  by  the 
arm,  and  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired  in  his  ear  whether  he  was 
Federal  or  Democrat. 

26.  Rip  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  this  ques- 
tion ;  when  a  knowing,  self-important  old  gentleman  in  a 
sharp  cocked  hat  made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  putting 
them  to  the  right  and  the  left  with  his  elbows  as  he  passed  ; 
and  planting  himself  before  Van  Winkle,  with  one  arm 
a-kimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his  cane,  his  keen  eyes  and 
sharp  hat  penetrating  as  it  were  into  his  very  soul,  demanded, 
in  an  austere  tone,  what  brought  him  to  the  election  with  a 
gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  mob  at  his  heels,  and  whether  he 
meant  to  breed  a  riot  in  the  village. 

27.  "Alas!  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip,  somewhat  dismayed, 
"I  am  a  poor  quiet  man,  a  native  of  the  place,  and  a  loyal 
subject  of  the  king,  God  bless  him  !  " 

12 


178  SELECTIONS. 

28.  Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  by-standers,  "A 
tory  !  a  tory  !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away  with  him  ! " 
It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  self-important  man  in  the 
cocked  hat  restored  order ;  and  having  assumed  a  tenfold 
austerity  of  brow,  demanded  again  of  the  unknown  culprit 
what  he  came  there  for,  and  whom  he  was  seeking. 

29.  The  poor  man  humbly  assured  him  that  he  meant  no 
harm,  but  merely  came  there  in  search  of  some  of  his  neigh- 
bors who  used  to  keep  about  the  tavern. 

30.  "  Well,  who  are  they  ?  Name  them."  Rip  bethought 
himself  a  moment  and  inquired,  "  Where  is  Nicholas  Ve el- 
der ? " 

31.  There  was  a  silence  for  a  little  while,  when  an  old 
man  replied,  in  a  thin  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder  ?  why 
he  is  dead  and  gone  these  eighteen  years  !  There  was  a 
wooden  tombstone  in  the  church-yard  that  used  to  tell  about 
him,  but  that  is  rotten  and  gone  too." 

32.  "  Where  's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster?"  "He 
went  off  to  the  wars,  was  a  great  militia  general,  and  is  now 
in  Congress?" 

33.  Rip's  heart  died  away  at  hearing  of  these  sad  changes 
in  his  home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself  thus  alone  in  the 
world.  Every  answer  puzzled  him,  too,  by  treating  of  such 
enormous  lapses  of  time,  and  of  matters  which  he  could  not 
understand:  war  —  Congress!  —  he  had  no  courage  to  ask 
after  any  more  of  his  friends,  but  cried  out  in  despair,  "  Does 
nobody  here  know  Rip  Van  Winkle  ?  " 

34.  "Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle!"  exclaimed  two  or  three, 
"  oh,  to  be  sure  !  that  is  Rip  Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning 
against  the  tree." 

35.  Rip  looked  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of  him- 
self as  he  went  up  to  the  mountain  ;  apparently  as  lazy,  and 
certainly  as  ragged.  The  poor  fellow  was  now  completely 
confounded.  He  doubted  his  own  identity,  and  whether  he 
was  himself  or  another  man.     In  the  midst  of  his  bewilder- 


RIP    VAN    WINKLES    AWAKENING.  179 

ment,  the  man  in  the  cocked  hat  demanded  who  he  was,  and 
what  was  his  name. 

36.  "  God  knows,''  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wits'  end  ;  "  I  'm 
not  myself  —  I  'm  somebody  else  —  that 's  me  yonder  —  no  — 
that's  somebody  else,  got  into  my  shoes  —  I  was  myself  last 
night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the  mountain,  and  they  've  changed 
m}'  gun»  and  everything's  changed,  and  I  'm  changed,  and  I 
can't  tell  what's  my  name,  or  who  I  am  !  " 

37.  The  by-standers  now  began  to  look  at  each  other,  nod, 
wink  significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against  their  foreheads. 
There  was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing  the  gun,  and  keep- 
ing the  old  fellow  from  doing  mischief ;  at  the  very  suggestion 
of  which  the  self-important  man  with  the  cocked  hat  retired 
with  some  precipitation. 

38.  At  this  critical  moment  a  fresh,  comely  woman  passed 
through  the  throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray-bearded  man. 
She  had  a  chubby  child  in  her  arms,  which,  frightened  at  his 
looks,  began  to  cry.  "  Hush,  Rip,"  cried  she,  "  hush,  you 
little  fool,  the  old  man  will  not  hurt  you."  The  name  of  the 
child,  the  air  of  the  mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all  awa- 
kened a  train  of  recollections  in  his  mind. 

39.  "What  is  your  name,  my  good  woman?"  asked  he. 
"  Judith  Gardener."     "  And  your  father's  name  ?  " 

40.  "  Ah,  poor  man,  his  name  was  Rip  Van  Winkle  ;  it  is 
twenty  years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with  his  gun,  and 
never  has  been  heard  of  since  ;  his  dog  came  home  without 
him  ;  but  whether  he  shot  himself,  or  was  carried  away  by 
the  Indians,  nobody  can  tell.     I  was  then  but  a  little  girl." 

41.  Rip  had  but  one  question  more  to  ask,  but  he  put  it 
with  a  faltering  voice:  "Where  is  your  mother?"  "Oh, 
she  too  had  died  but  a  short  time  since ;  she  broke  a  blood- 
vessel in  a  fit  of  passion  at  a  New  England  pedler." 

42.  There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in  this  intelli- 
gence. The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 
He  caught  his  daughter  and   her  child   in   his  arms.     "  I  am 


l80  SELECTIONS. 

your  father  !  "  cried  he ;  "  young  Rip  Van  Winkle  once  — 
old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now  !  Does  nobody  know  poor  Rip 
Van  Winkle  ?  " 

43.  All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out 
from  among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and,  peer- 
ing under  it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed,  "  Sure 
enough  !  it  is  Rip  Van  Winkle  —  it  is  himself.  Welcome 
home  again,  old  neighbor.  Why,  where  have  you  been  these 
twenty  long  years  ?  " 

44.  Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years 
had  been  to  him  but  as  one  night.  The  neighbors  stared 
when  they  heard  it ;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each  other, 
and  put  their  tongues  in  their  cheeks  ;  and  the  self-important 
man  in  the  cocked  hat,  who,  when  the  alarm  was  over,  had 
returned  to  the  field,  screwed  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
and  shook  his  head ;  upon  which  there  was  a  general  shak- 
ing of  the  heads  throughout  the  assemblage. 

XIX.    TOM   PINCH'S  JOURNEY  TO  LONDON.  —  Chas.  Dickens. 

1.  It  might  have  confused  a  less  modest  man  than  Tom 
Pinch  to  find  himself  sitting  next  that  coachman  ;  for,  of  all 
the  swells  that  ever  flourished  a  whip  professionally,  he  might 
ha^e  been  elected  emperor.  He  did  not  handle  his  gloves 
like  another  man,  but  put  them  on  —  even  when  he  was  standing 
on  the  pavement,  quite  detached  from  the  coach  —  as  if  the 
four  grays  were,  somehow  or  other,  at  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 

2.  It  was  the  same  with  his  hat.  He  did  things  with  his 
hat  which  nothing  but  an  unlimited  knowledge  of  horses  and 
the  wildest  freedom  of  the  road  could  ever  have  made  him 
perfect  in.  Valuable  little  parcels  were  brought  to  him  with 
particular  instructions,  and  he  pitched  them  into  his  hat,  and 
stuck  it  on  again,  as  if  the  Jaws  of  gravity  did  not  admit  of 
such  an  event  as  its  being  knocked  off  or  blown  off,  and  noth- 
ing like  an  accident  could  befall  it. 

3.  The  guard,  too  !     Seventy  breezy  miles   a   day  were 


TOM    PINCH'S  JOURNEY   TO    LONDON.  l8l 

written  in  his  very  whiskers.  His  manners  were  a  canter; 
his  conversation  a  round  trot.  He  was  a  fast  coach  upon  a 
down-hill  turnpike-road ;  he  was  all  pace.  A  wagon  could 
not  have  moved  slowly  with  that  guard  and  his  key-bugle 
upon  the  top  of  it. 

4.  These  were  all  foreshadowings  of  London,  Tom  thought, 
as  he  sat  upon  the  box  and  looked  about  him.  Such  a  coach- 
man and  such  a  guard  never  could  have  existed  between 
Salisbury  and  any  other  place.  The  coach  was  none  of  your 
steady-going  coaches,  but  a  swaggering,  dissipated  London 
coach  ;  up  all  night  and  lying  by  all  clay. 

5.  It  cared  no  more  for  Salisbury  than  if  it  had  been  a 
hamlet.  It  rattled  noisily  through  the  best  streets,  defied  the 
cathedral,  took  the  worst  corners  sharpest,  went  cutting  in 
everywhere,  making  everything  get  out  of  its  way,  and  spun 
along  the  open  country  road,  blowing  a  lively  defiance  out  of 
its  key-bugle,  as  its  last  parting  legacy. 

6.  It  was  a  charming  evening,  mild  and  bright.  Tom 
could  not  resist  the  captivating  sense  of  rapid  motion  through 
the  pleasant  air.  The  four  grays  skimmed  along  as  if  they 
liked  it  quite  as  well  as  Tom  did  ;  the  bugle  was  in  as  high 
spirits  as  the  grays  ;  the  coachman  chimed  in  sometimes  with 
his  voice  ;  the  wheels  hummed  cheerfullv  in  unison  ;  the 
brass  work  on  the  harness  was  an  orchestra  of  little  bells; 
and  thus  as  they  went  clinking,  jingling,  rattling  smoothly  on, 
the  whole  concern,  from  the  buckles  of  the  leaders'  coupling- 
reins  to  the  handle  of  the  hind  boot,  was  one  great  instru- 
ment of  music. 

7 .  Yoho !  past  hedges,  gates,  and  trees ,  past  cottages 
and  barns,  and  people  going  home  from  work.  Yoho  !  past 
donkey-chaises  drawn  aside  into  the  ditch,  and  empty  carts 
with  rampant  horses,  whipped  up  at  a  bound  upon  the  little 
water-course,  and  held  by  struggling  carters  close  to  the  five- 
barred  gate,  until  the  coach  had  passed  the  narrow  turning 
in  the  road. 


1 82  SELECTIONS. 

8.  Yoho  !  by  churches  dropped  down  by  themselves  in 
quiet  nooks,  with  rustic  burying-grounds  about  them,  where 
the  graves  are  green  and  daisies  sleep  —  for  it  is  evening  — 
on  the  bosom  of  the  dead. 

9.  Yoho  !  past  streams  in  which  the  cattle  cool  their  feet, 
and  where  the  rushes  grow  ;  past  paddock-fences,  farms,  and 
rick-yards;  past  last  year's  stacks,  cut  slice  by  siice  away, 
and  showing  in  the  waning  light  like  ruined  gables,  old  and 
brown.  Yoho!  down  the  pebbly  clip  and  through  the  merry 
water-splash,  and  up  at  a  canter  to  the  level  road  again. 

10.  Away  with  four  fresh  horses  from  the  Bald-faced  Stag, 
where  topers  congregate  about  the  door  admiring ;  and  the 
last  team,  with  traces  hanging  loose,  go  roaming  off  toward 
the  pond,  until  observed  and  shouted  after  by  a  dozen  throats, 
while  volunteering  boys  pursue  them.  Now  with  a  clattering 
of  hoofs  and  striking  out  of  fiery  sparks,  across  the  old  stone 
bridge,  and  down  again  into  the  shadowy  road,  and  through 
the  open  gate,  and  far  away,  away  into  the  wold.     Yoho  ! 

1 1.  See  the  bright  moon  !  High  up  before  we  know  it ; 
making  the  earth  reflect  the  objects  on  its  breast  like  water. 
Hedges,  trees,  low  cottages,  church-steeples,  blighted  stumps, 
and  flourishing  young  slips  have  all  grown  vain  upon  the  sud- 
den, and  mean  to  contemplate  their  own  fair  images  till  morn- 
ing. The  poplars  yonder  rustle,  that  their  quivering  leaves 
may  see  themselves  upon  the  ground.  Not  so  the  oak; 
trembling  does  not  become  him;  and  he  watches  himself  in 
his  stout  old  burly  steadfastness,  without  the  motion  of  a 
twig. 

12.  The  beauty  of  the  night  is  hardly  felt,  when  day  comes 
leaping  up.  Yoho  !  past  market-gardens,  rows  of  houses, 
villas,  terraces,  and  squares;  past  wagons,  coaches,  and  carts; 
past  early  workmen,  late  stragglers,  arunken  men,  and  sober 
carriers  of  loads  ;  past  brick  and  mortar  in  its  every  shape, 
and  in  among  the  rattling  pavements,  where  a  jaunty  seat 
upon  a  coach  is  not  so  easy  to  preserve.     Yoho  !  down  count- 


THE    TRUE    USE    OF    WEALTH.  1 83 

less  turnings  and  through  countless  mazy  ways,  until  an  old 
inn-yard  is  gained,  and  Tom  Pinch,  getting  down  quite  stunned 
and  giddy,  is  in  London. 


XX.    THE  TRUE  USE  OF  WEALTH.  — John  Ruskin. 

1.  There  is  a  saying  which  is  in  all  good  men's  mouths, 
namely,  that  they  are  stewards  or  ministers  of  whatever 
talents  are  intrusted  to  them.  Only,  is  it  not  a  strange 
thing  that  while  we  more  or  less  accept  the  meaning  of  that 
saying,  so  long  as  it  is  considered  metaphorical,  we  never 
accept  its  meaning  in  its  own  terms  ?  You  know  the  lesson 
is  given  us  under  the  form  of  a  story  about  money.  Money 
was  given  to  the  servants  to  make  use  of :  the  unprofitable 
servant  dug  in  the  earth,  and  hid  his  lord's  money.  Well, 
we  in  our  poetical  and  spiritual  application  of  this,  say  that 
of  course  money  doesn't  mean  money — it  means  wit,  it 
means  intellect,  it  means  influence  in  high  quarters,  it  means 
everything  in  the  world  except  itself. 

2.  And  do  you  not  see  what  a  pretty  and  pleasant  come- 
off  there  is  for  most  of  us  in  this  spiritual  application  ?  Of 
course,  if  we  had  wit,  we  would  use  it  for  the  good  of  our 
fellow-creatures;  but  we  have  n't  wit.  Of  course,  if  we  had 
influence  with  the  bishops,  we  would  use  it  for  the  good  of 
the  church;  but  we  haven't  any  influence  with  the  bishops. 
Of  course,  if  we  had  political  power,  we  would  use  it  for  the 
good  of  the  nation  ;  but  we  have  no  political  power ;  we 
have  no  talents  intrusted  to  us  of  any  sort  or  kind.  It  is 
true  we  have  a  little  money,  but  the  parable  can't  possibly 
mean  anything  so  vulgar  as  money  ;  our  money  's  our  own. 

3.  I  believe,  if  you  think  seriously  of  this  matter,  you 
will  feel  that  the  first  and  most  literal  application  is  just 
as  necessary  a  one  as  any  other ;  that  the  story  does  very 
specially  mean  what  it  says  —  plain  money;  and  that  the 
reason  we  don't  at  once. believe  it  does  so,  is  a  sort  of  tacit 


I84  SELECTIONS. 

idea  that  while  thought,  wit,  and  intellect,  and  all  power 
of  birth  and  position,  are  indeed  given  to  us,  and,  therefore, 
to  be  laid  out  for  the  Giver,  our  wealth  has  not  been  given 
to  us ;  but  we  have  worked  for  it,  and  have  a  right  to  spend 
it  as  we  choose.  I  think  you  will  find  that  is  the  real  sub- 
stance of  our  understanding  in  this  matter.  Beauty,  we  say, 
is  given  by  God  —  it  is  a  talent;  strength  is  given  by  God  — 
it  is  a  talent ;  but  money  is  proper  wages  for  our  day's  work 
—  it  is  not  a  talent,  it  is  a  due.  We  may  justly  spend  it  on 
ourselves,  if  we  have  worked  for  it. 

4.  And  there  would  be  some  shadow  of  excuse  for  this, 
were  it  not  that  the  very  power  of  making  the  money  is 
itself  only  one  of  the  applications  of  that  intellect  or 
strength  which  we  confess  to  be  talents.  Why  is  one  man 
richer  than  another?  Because  he  is  more  industrious,  more 
persevering,  and  more  sagacious.  Well,  who  made  him 
more  persevering  and  more  sagacious  than  others?  That 
power  of  endurance,  that  quickness  of  apprehension,  that 
calmness  of  judgment,  which  enable  him  to  seize  opportu- 
nities that  others  lose,  and  persist  in  the  lines  of  conduct  in 
which  others  fail,  —  are  these  not  talents?  are  they  not,  in 
the  present  state  of  the  world,  among  the  most  distinguished 
and  influential  of  mental  gifts  ? 

5.  And  is  it  not  wonderful,  that  while  we  should  be 
utterly  ashamed  to  use  a  superiority  of  body  in  order  to 
thrust  our  weaker  companions  aside  from  some  place  of 
advantage,  we  unhesitatingly  use  our  superiorities  of  mind 
to  thrust  them  back  from  whatever  good  that  strength  of 
mind  can  attain  ?  You  would  be  indignant  if  you  saw  a 
strong  man  walk  into  a  theatre  or  a  lecture-room,  and,  calmly 
choosing  the  best  place,  take  his  feeble  neighbor  by  the 
shoulder,  and  turn  him  out  of  it  into  the  back  seats  or  the 
street.  You  would  be  equally  indignant  if  you  saw  a  stouf 
fellow  thrust  himself  up  to  a  table  where  some  hungry  chil- 
dren  are  being  fed,  and  reach  his  arm  over  their  heads  and 
take  their  bread  from  them. 


THE    TRUE    USE    OF    WEALTH.  1 85 

6.  But  you  are  not  the  least  indignant  if  when  a  man  has 
stoutness  of  thought  and  swiftness  of  capacity,  and,  instead 
of  being  long-armed  only,  has  the  much  greater  gift  of 
being  long-headed,  —  you  think  it  perfectly  just  that  he 
should  use  his  intellect  to  take  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths 
of  all  the  other  men  in  the  town  who  are  in  the  same  trade 
with  him  ;  or  use  his  breadth  and  sweep  of  sight  to  gather 
some  branch  of  the  commerce  of  the  country  into  one  great 
cobweb,  of  which  he  is  himself  the  central  spider,  making 
every  thread  vibrate  with  the  points  of  his  claws,  and  com- 
manding every  avenue  with  the  facets  of  his  eyes.  You  see 
no  injustice  in  this. 

7.  But  there  is  injustice ;  and,  let  us  trust,  one  of  which 
honorable  men  will  at  no  very  distant  period  disdain  to  be 
guilty.  In  some  degree,  however,  it  is  indeed  not  unjust ; 
in  some  degree,  it  is  necessary  and  intended.  It  is  assuredly 
just  that  idleness  should  be  surpassed  by  energy  ;  that  the 
widest  influence  should  be  possessed  by  those  who  are  best 
able  to  wield  it ;  and  that  a  wise  man,  at  the  end  of  his 
career,  should  be  better  off  than  a  fool.  But  for  that  reason, 
is  the  fool  to  be  wretched,  utterly  crushed  down,  and  left  in 
all  the  suffering  which  his  conduct  and  capacity  naturally 
inflict  ?     Not  so. 

8.  What  do  you  suppose  fools  were  made  for?  That  you 
might  tread  upon  them,  and  starve  them,  and  get  the  better 
of  them  in  every  possible  way  ?  By  no  means.  They  were 
made  that  wise  people  might  take  care  of  them.  That  is 
the  true  and  plain  fact  concerning  the  relations  of  every 
strong  and  wise  man  to  the  world  about  him.  He  has  his 
strength  given  him.  not  that  he  may  crush  the  weak,  but  that 
he  may  support  and  guide  them.  In  his  own  household  he 
is  to  be  the  guide  and  the  support  of  his  children  ;  out  of 
his  household  he  is  still  to  be  the  father,  that  is,  the  guide 
and  support,  of  the  weak  and  the  poor;  not  merely  of  the 
meritoriously  weak  and  the  innocently  poor,  but  of  the  guilt- 


1 86  SELECTIONS. 

ily  and  punishably  poor ;  of  the  men  who  ought  to  have 
known  better;  of  the  poor  who  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
themselves. 

9.  It  is  nothing  to  give  pension  and  cottage  to  the  widow 
who  has  lost  her  son  ;  it  is  nothing  to  give  food  and  medi- 
cine to  the  workman  who  has  broken  his  arm,  or  the  decrepit 
woman  wasting  in  sickness.  But  it  is  something  to  use  your 
time  and  strength  in  war  with  the  waywardness  and  thought- 
lessness of  mankind ;  to  keep  the  erring  workman  in  your 
service  till  you  have  made  him  an  unerring  one  ;  and  to  direct 
your  fellow-merchant  to  the  opportunity  which  his  dulness 
would  have  lost. 

10.  This  is  much;  but  it  is  yet  more,  when  you  have 
fully  achieved  the  superiority  which  is  clue  to  you,  and 
acquired  the  wealth  which  is  the  fitting  reward  of  your  saga- 
city, if  you  solemnly  accept  the  responsibility  of  it,  as  it  is  the 
helm  and  guide  of  labor  far  and  near.  For  you  who  have  it 
in  your  hands,  are  in  reality  the  pilots  of  the  power  and 
effort  of  the  State.  It  is  intrusted  to  you  as  an  authority  to 
be  used  for  good  or  evil,  just  as  completely  as  kingly 
authority  was  ever  given  to  a  prince,  or  military  command  to 
a  captain.  And  according  to  the  quantity  of  it  you  have  in 
your  hands,  you  are  arbiters  of  the  will  and  work  of  the 
nation  ;  and  the  whole  issue,  whether  the  work  of  the  State 
shall  suffice  for  the  State  or  not,  depends  upon  you. 

1 1  You  may  stretch  out  your  sceptre  over  the  heads  of 
the  laborers,  and  say  to  them,  as  they  stoop  to  its  waving, 
"  Subdue  this  obstacle  that  has  baffled  our  fathers  ;  put  away 
this  plague  that  consumes  our  children ;  water  these  dry 
places,  plough  these  desert  ones  ;  carry  this  food  to  those 
who  are  in  hunger;  carry  this  light  to  those  who  are  in 
darkness;  carry  this  light  to  those  who  are  in  death  " ;  or  on 
the  other  side  you  may  say,  "  Here  am  I ;  this  power  is  in 
my  hand  ;  come,  build  a  mound  here  for  me  to  be  throned 
upon,  high  and  wide ;  come,  make  crowns  for  my  head,  that 


AN    ORDER    FOR    A    PICTURE.  1 87 

men  may  see  them  shine  from  far  away ;  come,  weave  tapes- 
tries for  my  feet,  that  I  may  tread  softly  on  the  silk  and  pur- 
ple ;  come,  dance  before  me,  that  I  may  be  gay  ;  and  sing  to 
me  that  I  may  slumber ;  so  shall  I  live  in  joy,  and  die  in 
honor."  And  better  than  such  an  honorable  death  it  were, 
that  the  day  had  perished  wherein  we  were  born. 

12.  I  trust  that  in  a  little  while  there  will  be  few  of  our 
rich  men  who,  through  carelessness  or  covetousness,  thus  for- 
feit the  glorious  office  which  is  intended  for  their  hands.  I 
said,  just  now,  that  wealth  ill  used  was  as  the  net  of  the 
spider,  entangling  and  destroying ;  but  wealth  well  used  is  as 
the  net  of  the  sacred  Fisher  who  gathers  souls  of  men  out  of 
the  deep.  A  time  will  come  —  I  do  not  think  it  is  far  from 
us  —  when  this  golden  net  of  the  world's  wealth  will  be 
spread  abroad  as  the  flaming  meshes  of  morning  cloud  over 
the  sky  ;  bearing  with  them  the  joy  of  light  and  the  dew  of 
the  morning,  as  well  as  the  summons  to  honorable  and  peace- 
ful toil. 


XXI.     AN    ORDER  FOR  A  PICTURE.—  Alice  Cary. 

O  good  painter,  tell  me  true, 

Has  your  hand  the  cunning  to  draw 
Shapes  of  things  that  you  never  saw  ? 

Ay?     Well,  here  is  an  order  for  you. 

Woods  and  cornfields,  a  little  brown, — 
The  picture  must  not  be  over-bright, 
Yet  all  in  the  golden  and  gracious  light 

Of  a  cloud,  when  the  summer  sun  is  down. 
Ahvay  and  alway,  night  and  morn, 
Woods  upon  woods,  with  fields  01  corn 
Lying  between  them,  not  quite  sere, 

And  not  in  the  full,  thick,  leafy  bloom, 

When  the  wind  can  hardly  find  breathing-room 
Under  their  tassels,  —  cattle  near, 


1 88  SELECTIONS. 

Biting  shorter  the  short  green  grass, 
And  a  hedge  of  sumach  and  sassafras, 
With  bluebirds  twittering  all  around, — 
(Ah,  good  painter,  you  can't  paint  sound  !) 
These,  and  the  house  where  I  was  born, 
Low  and  little,  and  black  and  old, 
With  children,  many  as  it  can  hold, 
All  at  the  windows,  open  wide,  — 
Heads  and  shoulders  clear  outside, 
And  fair  young  faces  all  ablush  : 

Perhaps  you  may  have  seen,  some  day, 
Roses  crowding  the  self-same  way, 
Out  of  a  wilding,  wayside  bush. 

Listen  closer      When  you  have  done 

With  woods  and  cornfields  and  grazing  herds. 

A  lady,  the  loveliest  ever  the  sun 
Looked  down  upon,  you  must  paint  for  me  ; 
Oh,  if  I  only  could  make  you  see 

The  clear  blue  eyes,  the  tender  smile, 
The  sovereign  sweetness,  the  gentle  grace, 
The  woman's  soul,  and  the  angel's  face, 

That  are  beaming  on  me  all  the  while, 

I  need  not  speak  these  foolish  words  : 

Yet  one  word  tells  you  all  I  would  say,  — 
She  is  my  mother :  you  will  agree 

That  all  the  rest  may  be  thrown  away. 

Two  little  urchins  at  her  knee 
You  must  paint,  sir  ;  one  like  me, 
The  other  with  a  clearer  brow, 

And  the  light  of  his  adventurous  eyes 

Flashing  with  boldest  enterprise  : 
At  ten  years  old  he  went  to  sea,  — 
God  knoweth  if  he  be  living;  now  : 

He  sailed  in  the  good  ship  "  Commodore,"  — 
Nobody  ever  crossed  her  track 
To  bring  us  news,  and  she  never  came  back. 

Ah,  't  is  twenty  long  years  and  more 


AN   ORDER   FOR    A    PICTURE.  1 89 

Since  that  old  ship  went  out  of  the  bay 

With  my  great-hearted  brother  on  her  deck: 

I  watched  him  till  he  shrank  to  a  speck, 
And  his  face  was  toward  me  all  the  way. 
Bright  his  hair  was.  a  golden  brown. 

The  time  we  stood  at  our  mother's  knee : 
That  beauteous  head,  if  it  did  go  down, 

Carried  sunshine  into  the  sea  ! 


Out  in  the  fields  one  summer  night 

We  were  together,  half  afraid 

Of  the  corn-leaves'  rustling,  and  of  the  shade 
Of  the  high  hills,  stretching  so  still  and  far, — 
Loitering  till  after  the  low  little  light 

Of  the  candle  shone  through  the  open  door. 

Afraid  to  go  home,  sir;  for  one  of  us  bore 
A  nest  full  of  speckled  and  thin-shelled  eggs ; 
The  other,  a  bird,  held  fast  by  the  legs, 
Not  so  big  as  a  straw  of  wheat : 
The  berries  we  gave  her  she  wouldn't  eat, 
But  cried  and  cried,  till  we  held  her  bill, 
So  slim  and  shining,  to  keep  her  still. 

At  last  we  stood  at  our  mother's  knee. 

Do  you  think,  sir,  if  you  try, 

You  could  paint  the  look  of  a  lie  ? 

If  you  can,  pray  have  the  grace 

To  put  it  solely  in  the  face 
Of  the  urchin  that  is  likest  me: 

I  think  't  was  solely  mine,  indeed  : 
But  that 's  no  matter,  —  paint  it  so  ; 

The  eyes  of  my  mother  —  (take  good  heed)  — 
Looking  not  on  the  nestful  of  eggs, 
Nor  the  fluttering  bird,  held  so  fast  by  the  legs, 
But  straight  through  our  faces  down  to  our  lies, 
And  oh,  with  such  injured,  reproachful  surprise! 

I  felt  my  heart  bleed  where  that  glance  went,  as  though 

A  sharp  blade  struck  through  it. 


1 90  SELECTIONS. 

You,  sir,  know 
That  you  on  the  canvas  are  to  repeat 
Things  that  are  fairest,  things  most  sweet,  — 
Woods  and  cornfields  and  mulberry-tree, — 
The  mother,  —  the  lads,  with  their  bird,  at  her  knee 

But,  oh,  that  look  of  reproachful  woe  ! 
High  as  the  heavens  your  name  I  '11  shout, 
If  you  paint  me  the  picture,  and  leave  that  out. 


XXII.    THE  HIGHLAND   GATHERING.  —  W.   Scott. 

i.     Speed,  Malise,  speed  !  —  the  dun  deer's  hide 
On  fleeter  foot  was  never  tied  ;  — 
Speed,  Malise,  speed  !  such  cause  of  haste 
Thine  active  sinews  never  braced  ;  — 
Bend  'gainst  the  steepy  hill  thy  breast; 
Rush  down  like  torrent  from  its  crest. 
With  short  and  springing  footstep  pass 
The  trembling  bog  and  false  morass. 

2.  Across  the  brook  like  roebuck  bound, 
And  thread  the  break  like  questing  hound  ; 
The  crag  is  high,  the  scaur  is  deep, 

Yet  shrink  not  from  the  desperate  leap ; 
Parched  are  thy  burning  lips  and  brow, 
Yet  by  the  fountain  pause  not  now. 
Herald  of  battle,  fate,  and  fear, 
Stretch  onward  in  thy  fleet  career ! 

3.  Fast  as  the  fatal  symbol  flies, 

In  arms  the  huts  and  hamlets  rise; 
From  winding  glen,  from  upland  brown, 
They  poured  each  hardy  tenant  down  ; 
Nor  slacked  the  messenger  his  pace ; 
He  showed  the  sign,  he  named  the  place, 
And,  pressing  forward  like  the  wind, 
Left  clamor  and  surprise  behind. 


PAUL    REVERES    RIDE.  igi 

Speed,  Malise,  speed  !  the  lake  is  passed  ; 
Duncraggan's  huts  appear  at  last, 
And  peep,  like  moss-grown  rocks,  half  seen, 
Half  hidden  in  the  copse  so  green  ; 
There  mayst  thou  rest,  thy  labor  done  ; 
Others  shall  speed  the  signal  on. 


XXIII.     PAUL  REVERE'S  RIDE.  — H.  W.  Longfellow. 

1. 

Listen1,  my  children,  and  you  shall  hear 

Of  the  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere, 

On  the  eighteenth  of  April,  in  seventy-five : 

Hardly  a  man  is  now  alive 

Who  remembers  that  famous  day  and  year. 

n. 

He  said  to  his  friend,  "  If  the  British  march 

By  land  or  sea  from  the  town  to-night, 

Hang  a  lantern  aloft  in  the  belfry  arch 

Of  the  North  Church  tower,  as  a  signal  light, — 

One,  if  by  land,  and  two,  if  by  sea; 

And  I  on  the  opposite  shore  will  be 

Ready  to  ride  and  spread  the  alarm 

Through  every  Middlesex  village  and  farm, 

For  the  country-folk  to  be  up  and  to  arm." 

in. 

Then  he  said,  "  Good  night !  "  and  with  muffled  oar 

Silently  rowed  to  the  Charlestown  shore, 

Just  as  the  moon  rose  over  the  bay, 

Where,  swinging  wide  at  her  moorings,  lay 

The  "Somerset,"  British  man-of-war: 

A  phantom  ship,  with  each  mast  and  spar 

Across  the  moon,  like  a  prison  bar, 

And  a  huge,  black  hulk,  that  was  magnified 

By  its  own  reflection  in  the  tide. 


192 


SELECTIONS. 


IV. 


Meanwhile  his  friend,  through  alley  and  street 
Wanders  and  watches  with  eager  ears, 
Till,  in  the  silence  around  him,  he  hears 
The  muster  of  men  at  the  barrack  door, 
The  sound  of  arms  and  the  tramp  of  feet, 
And  the  measured  tread  of  the  grenadiers 
Marching  down  to  their  boats  on  the  shore. 


Then  he  climbed  to  the  tower  of  the  church, 
Up  the  wooden  stairs,  with  stealthy  tread, 
To  the  belfry  chamber  overhead, 
And  startled  the  pigeons  from  their  perch 
On  the  sombre  rafters,  that  round  him  made 
Masses  and  moving  shapes  of  shade, — 
Up  the  trembling  ladder,  steep  and  tall, 
To  the  highest  window  in  the  wall, 
Where  he  paused  to  listen,  and  look  down 
A  moment  on  the  roofs  of  the  town, 
And  the  moonlight  flowing  over  all. 

VI. 

Beneath  in  the  church-yard  lay  the  dead 
In  their  night  encampment  on  the  hill, 
Wrapped  in  silence  so  deep  and  still 
That  he  could  hear,  like  a  sentinel's  tread, 
The  watchful  night-wind,  as  it  went 
Creeping  along  from  tent  to  tent, 
And  seeming  to  whisper,  "  All  is  well !  " 

VII. 

A  moment  only  he  feels  the  spell 

Of  the  place  and  the  hour,  the  secret  dread 

Of  the  lonely  belfry  and  the  dead  ; 

For  suddenly  all  his  thoughts  are  bent 


PAUL    REVERES    RIDE.  I93 


On  a  shadowy  something  far  away, 
Where  the  river  widens  to  meet  the  bay, — 
A  line  of  black  that  bends  and  floats 
On  the  rising  tide,  like  a  bridge  of  boats. 


VIII. 

Meanwhile,  impatient  to  mount  and  ride, 
Booted  and  spurred,  with  a  heavy  stride 
On  the  opposite  shore  walked  Paul  Revere. 
Now  he  patted  his  horse's  side, 
Xow  gazed  at  the  landscape  far  and  near, 
Then  impetuous,  stamped  the  earth, 
And  turned  and  tightened  his  saddle-girth  ; 
But  mostly  he  watched  with  eager  search 
The  belfry  tower  of  the  Old  North  Church, 

J  7 

As  it  rose  above  the  graves  on  the  hill, 
Lonely  and  spectral  and  sombre  and  still. 


IX. 

And  lo !  as  he  looks,  on  the  belfry's  height 
A  glimmer,  and  then  a  gleam  of  light ! 
He  springs  to  the  saddle,  the  bridle  he  turns, 
But  lingers  and  gazes,  till  full  on  his  sight 
A  second  lamp  in  the  belfry  burns  ! 


A  hurry  of  hoofs  in  a  village  street, 

A  shape  in  the  moonlight,  a  bulk  in  the  dark, 

And  beneath  from  the  pebbles,  in  passing,  a  spark 

Struck  out  by  a  steed  flying  fearless  and  fleet : 

That  was  all  !     And  yet,  through  the  gloom  and  the  light, 

The  fate  of  a  nation  was  riding  that  night  ; 

And  the  spark  struck  out  by  that  steed,  in  his  flight, 

Kindled  the  land  into  flame  with  its  heat. 


1  I 


194  SELECTIONS. 


XI. 

You  know  the  rest.     In  the  books  you  have  read 
How  the  British  regulars  fired  and  fled, — 
How  the  farmers  gave  them  ball  for  ball, 
From  behind  each  fence  and  farm-yard  wall, 
Chasing  the  redcoats  down  the  lane, 
Then  crossing  the  fields  to  emerge  again 
Under  the  trees  at  the  turn  of  the  road, 
And  only  pausing  to  fire  and  load. 


XII. 

So  through  the  night  rode  Paul  Revere ; 

And  so  through  the  night  went  his  cry  of  alarm 

To  every  Middlesex  village  and  farm,  — 

A  cry  of  defiance  and  not  of  fear,  — 

A  voice  in  the  darkness,  a  knock  at  the  door, 

And  a  word  that  shall  echo  forevermore ! 

For,  borne  on  the  night-wind  of  the  Past, 

Through  all  our  history,  to  the  last, 

In  the  hour  of  darkness  and  peril  and  need, 

The  people  will  waken  and  listen  to  hear 

The  hurrying  hoof-beats  of  that  steed, 

And  the  midnight  message  of  Paul  Revere. 


XXIV.    CASSIUS  AND  CASCA.  —  Shakespeare. 

Casca.  You  pull'd  me  by  the  cloak  :  would  you  speak  with 
me  ? 

Brn.  Ay,  Casca  ;  tell  us  what  hath  chanc'd  to-day,  that 
Caesar  looks  so  sad. 

Casca.     Why,  you  were  with  him,  were  you  not  ? 

Bru.     I  should  not,  then,  ask  Casca  what  had  chanc'd. 

Casca.  Why,  there  was  a  crown  offer'd  him  ;  and  being 
offer'd  him,  he  put  it  by  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  thus  ;  and 
then  the  people  fell  a-shouting. 


CASSIUS   AND    CASCA.  195 

Bru.     What  was  the  second  noise  for  ? 

Casca.     Why,  for  that  too. 

Cass.     They  shouted  thrice  :  what  was  the  last  cry  for  ? 

Casca.     Why,  for  that  too. 

Bru.     Was  the  crown  offer'd  him  thrice  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  marry,  was  't,  and  he  put  it  by  thrice,  every 
time  gentler  than  other ;  and  at  every  putting-by  mine  honest 
neighbors  shouted. 

Cass.     Who  offer'd  him  the  crown  ? 

Casca.      Why,  Antony. 

Bru.     Tell  us  the  manner  of  it,  gentle  Casca. 

Casca.  I  can  as  well  be  hang'd,  as  tell  the  manner  of  it : 
it  was  mere  foolery  ;  I  did  not  mark  it.  I  saw  Mark  Antony 
offer  him  a  crown  ;  —  yet 't  was  not  a  crown  neither,  't  was  one 
of  these  coronets  ;  and,  as  I  told  you,  he  put  it  by  once :  but, 
for  all  that,  to  my  thinking,  he  would  fain  have  had  it.  Then 
he  offered  it  to  him  again  ;  then  he  put  it  by  again :  but,  to 
my  thinking,  he  was  very  loth  to  lay  his  fingers  off  it.  And 
then  he  offered  it  the  third  time  ;  he  put  it  the  third  time  by ; 
and  still,  as  he  refus'd  it.  the  rabblement  shouted,  and  clapp'd 
their  chapp'd  hands,  and  threw  up  their  sweaty  nightcaps, 
and  Csesar  swooned,  and  fell  down  at  it. 

Cass.     But,  soft  !   f  pray  you.     What,  did  Cassar  swoon  ? 

Casca.  He  fell  down  in  the  market-place,  and  foam'd  at 
mouth,  and  was  speechless. 

Bru.     'T  is  very  like  ;  he  hath  the  falling-sickness. 

Cass.     No,  Cajsar  hath  it  not;  but  you,  and  1, 

And  honest  Casca,  we  have  the  falling-sickness. 

Casca.  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by  that ;  but  I  am  sure 
Caesar  fell  down.  If  the  tag-rag  people  did  not  clap  him 
and  hiss  him,  according  as  he  pleas'd  and  displeas'd  them, 
as  they  use  to  do  the  players  in  the  theatre,  I  am  no  true 
man. 

Bru.     What  said  he  when  he  came  unto  himself? 

Casca.      Many,  before  he  fell  down,  when   lie  perceiv'd  the 


IC)6  SELECTIONS. 

common  herd  was  glad  he  refus'd  the  crown,  he  pluck'd  me 
ope  his  doublet,  and  offer'd  them  his  throat  to  cut :  an  I  had 
been  a  man  of  any  occupation,  if  I  would  not  have  taken  him 
at  a  word,  I  would  I  might  go  down  among  the  rogues  :  —  and 
so  he  fell.  When  he  came  to  himself  again  he  said,  if  he  had 
done  or  said  anything  amiss,  he  desir'd  their  worships  to 
think  it  was  his  infirmity. 

Bru.     And,  after  that,  he  came  thus  sad  away? 

Casca.     Ay. 

Cass.     Did  Cicero  say  anything  ? 

Casca.     Ay,  he  spoke  Greek. 

Cass.     To  what  effect  ? 

Casca.  Nay,  an  I  tell  you  that,  I  '11  ne'er  look  you  i'  the 
face  again  :  but  those  that  understood  him  smil'd  at  one 
another  and  shook  their  heads  ;  but,  fur  mine  own  part,  it  was 
Greek  to  me.  I  could  tell  you  more  news  too  :  Marullus  and 
Flavius,  for  pulling  scarfs  off  Caesar's  images,  are  put  to 
silence.  Fare  you  well.  There  was  more  foolery  yet,  if  I 
could  remember  it. 

Cass.     Will  you  sup  with  me  to-night,  Casca? 

Casca.     No,  I  am  promis'd  forth. 

Cass.     Will  you  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  if  I  be  alive,  and  your  mind  hold,  and  your 
dinner  worth  the  eating. 

Cass.     Good  ;  I  will  expect  you. 

Casca.     Do  so :  farewell  both.  [Exit  Casca  . 

Bru.  What  a  blunt  fellow  is  this  grown  to  be  !  He  was 
quick  mettle  when  he  went  to  school. 

Cass.     So  is  he  now,  in  execution 

Of  any  bold  or  noble  enterprise, 
However  he  puts  on  this  tardy  form. 
This  rudeness  is  a  sauce  to  his  good  wit, 
Which  gives  men  stomach  to  digest  his  words 
With  better  appetite. 


CHARACTER   OF    CHARLES    THE    FIRST.  JQ7 

XXV.     CHARACTER  OF  CHARLES  THE  FIRST.  —  Macaulay. 

i.  The  advocates  of  Charles,  like  the  advocates  of  other 
malefactors  against  whom  overwhelming  evidence  is  pro- 
duced, generally  decline  all  controversy  about  the  facts, 
and  content  themselves  with  calling  testimony  to  character. 
He  had  so  many  private  virtues !  And  had  James  the 
Second  no  private  virtues  ?  Was  Oliver  Cromwell,  his  bitter- 
est enemies  themselves  being  judges,  destitute  of  private 
virtues  ? 

2.  And  what,  after  all,  are  the  virtues  ascribed  to  Charles  ? 
A  religious  zeal,  not  more  sincere  than  that  of  his  son,  and 
fully  as  weak  and  narrow-minded,  and  a  few  of  the  ordinary 
household  decencies  which  half  the  tombstones  in  England 
claim  for  those  who  lie  beneath  them.  A  good  father !  A 
good  husband  !  Ample  apologies  indeed  for  fifteen  years  of 
persecution,  tyranny,  and  falsehood  ! 

3.  We  charge  him  with  having  broken  his  coronation  oath  ; 
and  we  are  told  that  he  kept  his  marriage  vow  !  We  accuse 
him  of  having  given  up  his  people  to  the  merciless  inflictions 
of  the  most  hot-headed  and  hard-hearted  of  prelates  ;  and  the 
defence  is,  that  he  took  his  little  son  on  his  knee  and  kissed 
him  !  We  censure  him  for  having  violated  the  articles  of  the 
Petition  of  Right,  after  having,  for  good  and  valuable  con- 
sideration, promised  to  observe  them  ;  and  we  are  informed 
that  he  was  accustomed  to  hear  prayers  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning  !  It  is  to  such  considerations  as  these,  together  with 
his  Vandyke  dress,  his  handsome  face,  and  his  peaked  beard, 
that  he  owes,  we  verily  believe,  most  of  his  popularity  with 
the  present  generation. 

4.  For  ourselves,  we  own  that  we  do  not  understand  the 
common  phrase,  a  good  man,  but  a  bad  king  We  can  as 
easily  conceive  a  good  man  and  an  unnatural  father,  or  a 
good  man  and  a  treacherous  friend.  We  cannot,  in  estimat- 
ing the  character  of  an  individual,  leave  out  of  our  consider- 


I98  SELECTIONS. 

tion  his  conduct  in  the  most  important  of  all  human  relations  ; 
and  if  in  that  relation  we  find  him  to  have  been  selfish,  cruel, 
and  deceitful,  we  shall  take  the  liberty  to  call  him  a  bad  man, 
in  spite  of  all  his  temperance  at  table,  and  all  his  regularity 
at  chapel. 


XXVI.    THE  PERFECT  ORATOR.  —  Sheridan. 

Imagine  to  yourselves  a  Demosthenes,  addressing  the 
most  illustrious  assembly  in  the  world,  upon  a  point  whereon 
the  fate  of  the  most  illustrious  of  nations  depended.  How 
awful  such  a  meeting !  how  vast  the  subject !  By  the 
power  of  his  eloquence,  the  augustness  of  the  assembly  is 
lost  in  the  dignity  of  the  orator ;  and  the  importance  of  the 
subject,  for  a  while,  superseded  by  the  admiration  of  his 
talents. 

With  what  strength  of  argument,  with  what  powers  of  the 
fancy,  with  what  emotions  of  the  heart,  does  he  assault  and 
subjugate  the  whole  man  ;  and,  at  once,  captivate  his  reason, 
his  imagination,  and  his  passions  !  To  effect  this,  must  be 
the  utmost  of  the  most  improved  state  of  human  nature.  Not 
a  faculty  that  he  possesses,  but  is  here  exerted  to  its  highest 
pitch.  All  his  internal  powers  are  at  work  ;  all  his  external, 
testify  their  energies.  Within,  the  memory,  the  fancy,  the 
judgment,  the  passions,  are  all  busy  ;  without,  every  muscle, 
every  nerve  is  exerted  —  not  a  feature,  not  a  limb,  but 
speaks.  The  organs  of  the  body,  attuned  to  the  exertions 
of  the  mind,  through  the  kindred  organs  of  the  hearers,  in- 
stantaneously vibrate  these  energies  from  soul  to  soul.  Not- 
withstanding the  diversity  of  mind  in  such  a  multitude,  by  the 
lightning  of  eloquence  they  are  melted  into  one  mass  ;  the 
whole  assembly,  actuated  in  one  and  the  same  way,  become, 
as  it  were,  but  one  man,  and  have  but  one  voice.  The  uni- 
versal cry  is,  Let  us  march  against  Philip,  let  us  fight  for  our 
liberties,  let  us  conquer  or  die  / 


ELOQUENCE.  1 99 

XXVII.    ELOQUENCE.  —  Webster. 

When  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momentous 
occasions,  when  great  interests  are  at  stake  and  strong  pas- 
sions excited,  nothing  is  valuable  in  speech  further  than  it 
is  connected  with  high  intellectual  and  moral  endowments. 
Clearness,  force,  and  earnestness  are  the  qualities  which  pro- 
duce conviction.  True  eloquence,  indeed,  does  not  consist 
in  speech.  It  cannot  be  brought  from  afar.  Labor  and 
learning  may  toil  for  it,  but  they  will  toil  in  vain.  Words 
and  phrases  may  be  marshalled  in  every  way,  but  they  cannot 
compass  it.  It  must  exist  in  the  man,  in  the  subject,  and  in 
the  occasion.  Affected  passion,  intense  expression,  the  pomp 
of  declamation,  all  may  aspire  after  it  ;  they  cannot  reach  it. 
It  comes,  if  it  comes  at  all,  like  the  outbreaking  of  a  fountain 
from  the  earth,  or  the  bursting  forth  of  volcanic  fires,  with 
spontaneous,  original,  native  force.  The  graces  taught  in  the 
schools,  the  costly  ornaments  and  studied  contrivances  of 
speech,  shock  and  disgust  men  when  their  own  lives,  and  the 
fate  of  their  wives,  their  children,  and  their  country,  hang  on 
the  decision  of  the  hour.  Then  words  have  lost  their  power, 
rhetoric  is  vain,  and  all  elaborate  oratory  contemptible.  Even 
genius  itself  then  feels  rebuked  and  subdued,  as  in  the  pres- 
ence of  higher  qualities.  Then  patriotism  is  eloquent ;  then 
self-devotion  is  eloquent.  The  clear  conception,  outrunning 
the  deductions  of  logic,  the  high  purpose,  the  firm  resolve, 
the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking  on  the  tongue,  beaming  f,om 
the  eye,  informing  every  feature  and  urging  the  whole  man 
onward,  right  onward  to  his  object,  —  this,  this  is  Eloquence, 
or  rather  it  is  something  greater  and  higher  than  all  eloquence, 
—  it  is  Action,  noble,  sublime,  God-like  Action. 

XXVIII.     Till;  OKA  inRS   ART.— J.  Q.  ADAMS. 

The  eloquence  of  the  college  is  like  the  discipline  of  a 
review.     The  art  of  war,  we  are  all  sensible,  does  not  con- 


200  SELECTIONS. 

sist  in  manoeuvres  on  a  training-day  ;  nor  the  steadfastness 
of  the  soldier  in  the  hour  of  battle,  in  the  drilling  of  his 
orderly  sergeant.  Yet  the  superior  excellence  of  the  veteran 
army  is  exemplified  in  nothing  more  forcibly  than  in  the  per 
fection  of  its  discipline.  It  is  in  the  heat  of  action,  upon  the 
field  of  blood,  that  the  fortune  of  the  day  may  be  decided  by 
the  exactness  of  manual  exercise ;  and  the  art  of  displaying  a 
column,  or  directing  a  charge,  may  turn  the  balance  of  vic- 
tory, and  change  the  history  of  the  world.  The  application 
c*  these  observations  is  as  direct  to  the  art  of  oratory  as  to 
that  of  war.  The  exercises  to  which  you  are  here  accus- 
tomed are  not  intended  merely  for  the  display  of  the  talents 
you  have  acquired.  They  are  instruments  put  into  your 
hands  for  future  use.  Their  object  is  not  barely  to  prepare 
you  for  the  composition  and  delivery  of  an  oration  to  amuse  an 
idle  hour  on  some  public  anniversary.  It  is  to  give  you  a  clew 
for  the  labyrinth  of  legislation  in  the  public  councils  ;  a  spear 
for  the  conflict  of  judicial  war  in  the  public  tribunals  ;  a  sword 
for  the  field  of  religious  and  moral  victory  in  the  pulpit. 


XXIX.    THE   FIRST  AMERICAN  CONGRESS.  — J.  Maxcy. 

The  interposition  of  Divine  Providence  was  eminently  con- 
spicuous in  the  first  General  Congress.  What  men,  what  pa- 
tiiots,  what  independent,  heroic  spirits  !  chosen  by  the  un- 
biased voice  of  the  people ;  chosen,  as  all  public  servants 
ought  to  be,  without  favor  and  without  fear.  What  an  august 
assembly  of  sages  !  Rome  in  the  height  of  her  glory  fades 
before  it.  There  never  was  in  any  age  or  nation  a  body 
of  men  who  for  general  information,  for  the  judicious  use  of 
the  results  of  civil  and  political  history,  for  eloquence  and 
virtue,  for  true  dignity,  elevation  and  grandeur  of  soul,  could 
stand  a  comparison  with  the  first  American  Congress !  See 
what  the  people  will  do  when  left  to  themselves ;  to  their  un- 
biased good  sense,  and  to  their  true  interests  !     The  ferocious 


THE    FIRST    AMERICAN    CONGRESS.  201 

Gaul  would  have  dropped  his  sword  at  the  hall   door,  and 
have  fled  thunderstruck  as  from  an  assembly  of  gods  !    Whom 
do  I  behold  ?  a  Hancock,  a  Jefferson,  an  Adams,  a  Henry,  a 
Lee,  a  Rutledge  !    Glory  to  their  immortal  spirits  !     On  you 
depend  the  destinies  of  your  country ;  the  fate  of  three  mill- 
ions of  men,  and  of  the  countless  millions  of  their  posterity  ! 
Shall  these  be  slaves,  or  will  you  make  a  noble  stand  for 
liberty,  against   a  power  whose  triumphs  are    already  coex- 
tensive with  the  earth  ;  whose  legions  trample  on  thrones  and 
sceptres  ;  whose  thunders  bellow  on  every  ocean  ?     How  tre- 
mendous the  occasion  !     How  vast  the  responsibility  !     The 
President  and  all  the  members  of  this  august  assembly  take 
their  seats.     Every  countenance    tells   the    mighty   struggle 
within.     Every  tongue  is  silent.     It  is  a  pause  in  nature,  that 
solemn,   awful  stillness  which  precedes  the  earthquake  and 
tornado  !     At  length  Demosthenes  arises  ;  he  is  only  adequate 
to  the  great  occasion,  the  Virginian  Demosthenes,  the  mighty 
Henry  !     What  dignity  !     What  majesty  !     Every  eye  fastens 
upon  him.     Firm,  erect,  undaunted,  he  rolls  on  the  mighty 
torrent  of  his  eloquence.     What  a  picture  does  he  draw  of  the 
horrors  of  servitude,  and  the  charms  of  freedom  !     At  once  he 
gives  the  full  rein  to  all  his  gigantic  powers,  and  pours  his 
own  heroic  spirit  into  the  minds  of  his  auditors;  they  become 
as  one  man,  actuated  by  one  soul ;   and  the  universal  shout 
is,  "  Liberty  or  death  !  "     This  single  speech  of  this  illustrious 
man   gave    an    impulse  which    probably  decided  the  fate  of 
America.     His  eloquence   seized  and  moved  the  assembled 
sages ;    as   the   descending  hail-storm,  bursting  in  thunder, 
rending  the  forest,  and  shaking  the  mountains.     God  bestows 
on  nations  no  greater  gift  than  great  and  good  men,  endowed 
with  the  high  and  commanding  powers  of  eloquence.     Such 
a  man  as  Patrick  Henry  may  on  some  great  occasion,  when 
the  happiness  or  misery  of  millions  depends  on  a  s'ngle  decis- 
ion, render  more  important  service  to  a  nation  than  all  the 
generations  of  a  century. 


202  SELECTIONS. 

XXX.      HAMLET'S  ADVICE  TO  THE  PLAYERS.  — Shakespeare. 

Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced  it  to  you, 
trippingly  on  the  tongue.  But  if  you  mouth  it,  as  many  of 
our  players  do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town  crier  had  spoken  my 
lines.  And  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much  with  your  hands, 
but  use  all  gently  ;  for,  in  the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and,  as 
I  may  say,  whirlwind  of  your  passion,  you  must  beget  a 
temperance  that  will  give  it  smoothness.  Oh !  it  offends 
me  to  the  soul  to  hear  a  robustious,  periwig-pated  fellow 
tear  a  passion  to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of 
the  groundlings;  who  (for  the  most  part)  are  capable  of 
nothing  but  inexplicable  dumb-shows  and  noise.  Pray  you 
avoid  it. 

Be  not  too  tame,  either;  but  let  your  own  discretion  be 
your  tutor.  Suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the 
action,  with  this  special  observance,  that  you  o'erstep  not 
the  modesty  of  nature ;  for  anything  so  overdone  is  from  the 
purpose  of  playing  ;  whose  end  is,  to  hold,  as  it  were,  the 
mirror  up  to  nature  ;  to  show  virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn 
her  own  image,  and  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  times,  their 
form  and  pressure.  Now,  this  overdone,  or  come  tardy  off, 
though  it  may  make  the  unskilful  laugh,  cannot  but  make 
the  judicious  grieve  ;  the  censure  of  one  of  which  must, 
in  your  allowance,  overweigh  a  whole  theatre  of  others.  Oh  ! 
there  are  players  that  I  have  seen  play,  and  heard  others 
praise,  and  that,  highly, — not  to  speak  it  profanely,  —  who, 
having  neither  the  accent  of  Christian,  nor  the  gait  of  Chris- 
tian, pagan,  nor  man,  have  so  strutted  and  bellowed,  that  I 
have  thought  some  of  nature's  journeymen  had  made  men, 
and  not  made  the*  well,  they  imitated  humanity  so  abom- 
inably. 


othello's  defence.  203 

XXXI.    OTHELLO'S  DEFENCE.  —  Shakespeare. 

1. 

Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  seigniors, 
My  very  noble  and  approved  good  masters, 
That  I  have  ta*en  away  this  old  man's  daughter, 
It  is  most  true;  true,  I  have  married  her; 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more. 


11. 

Rude  am  I  in  speech, 
And  little  bless'd  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace ; 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  hath  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  used 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak, 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle  ; 
And  therefore  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause, 
In  speaking  for  myself.     Yet,  by  your  gracious  patience 
I  will  a  round  unvarnished  tale  deliver, 
Of  my  whole  course  of  love;  what  drugs,  what  charms, 
What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic 
(For  such  proceedings  I  am  charged  withal) 
I  won  his  daughter  with. 


in. 

Her  father  loved  me  ;  oft  invited  me  ; 

Still  questioned  me  the  story  of  my  life, 

From  year  to  year;  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes 

That  I  have  pass'd. 

I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days, 

To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it : 

Wherein  I  spoke  of  most  disastrous  chances; 

Of  moving  accidents,  by  flood  and  field  : 

Of  hair-breadth  'scapes  in  the  imminent  deadly  breach; 


204  SELECTIONS. 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 

And  sold  to  slavery ;  of  my  redemption  thence, 

And  with  it  all  my  travel's  history. 


IV. 

These  things  to  hear 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  ; 
But  still  the  house  affairs  would  draw  her  thence  ; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  despatch, 
She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse  ;  which  I  observing, 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour;  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart, 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate, 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  attentively. 

v. 

I  did  consent ; 
And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears, 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 
That  my  youth  suffered.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs  ; 
She  swore  —  in  faith,  'twas  strange,  'twas  passing  strange; 
'T  was  pitiful,  'twas  wondrous  pitiful; 
She  wished  she  had  not  heard  it;  yet  she  wished 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man. 


VI. 

She  thank'd  me  ; 
And  bade  me  if  I  had  a  friend  that  loved  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.     On  this  hint,  I  spake  ; 
She  loved  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd  ; 
And  I  loved  her,  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  used. 


UNIVERSALITY    OF    CONSCIENCE.  205 


FORENSIC.  —  SERMONIC.  —ORATORIO.  —  EMOTIONAL. 


XXXII.    UNIVERSALITY  OF  CONSCIENCE.— Chalmers. 

This  theology  of  conscience  has  been  greatly  obscured,  but 
never,  in  any  country,  or  at  any  period  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  has  it  been  wholly  obliterated.  We  behold  the  ves- 
tiges of  it  in  the  simple  theology  of  the  desert ;  and,  perhaps, 
more  distinctly  there,  than  in  the  complex  superstitions  of  an 
artificial  and  civilized  heathenism.  In  confirmation  of  this, 
we  might  quote  the  invocations  to  the  Great  Spirit  from  the 
wilds  of  Xorth  America.  But,  indeed,  in  every  quarter  of 
the  globe,  where  missionaries  have  held  converse  with  savages, 
even  with  the  rudest  of  Nature's  children,  when  speaking 
on  the  topics  of  sin  and  judgment,  they  did  not  speak  to 
them  in  vocables  unknown.  And  as  the  sense  of  a  universal 
law  and  a  Supreme  Lawgiver  never  waned  into  total  extinc- 
tion among  the  tribes  of  ferocious  and  untamed  wanderers, 
so  neither  was  it  altogether  stifled  by  the  refined  and  intricate 
polytheism  of  more  enlightened  nations.  When  the  guilty 
emperors  of  Rome  were  tempest-driven  by  remorse  and  fear, 
it  was  not  that  they  trembled  before  a  sceptre  of  their  own 
imagination.  When  terror  mixed,  which  it  often  did,  with  the 
rage  and  cruelty  of  Xero,  it  was  the  theology  of  conscience 
which  haunted  him.  It  was  not  the  suggestion  of  a  capricious 
fancy  which  gave  him  the  disturbance,  but  a  voice  issuing 
from  the  deep  recesses  of  a  moral  nature,  as  stable  and  uni- 
form throughout  the  species  as  is  the  material  structure  of 
humanity;  and  in  the  lineaments  of  which  wre  may  read  that 
there  is  a  moral  regimen  among  men,  and  therefore  a  moral 
governor  who  hath  instituted,  and  who  presides  over  it. 
Therefore  it  was  that  these  imperial   despots,  the  worst  and 


206  SELECTIONS. 

haughtiest  of  recorded  monarchs,  stood  aghast  at  the  spectacle 
of  their  own  worthlessness. 

This  is  not  a  local  or  a  geographical  notion.  It  is  a  uni- 
versal feeling ;  to  be  found  wherever  men  are  found,  be- 
cause interwoven  with  the  constitution  of  humanity.  It  is 
not,  therefore,  the  peculiarity  of  one  creed  or  of  one  country. 
It  circulates  at  large  throughout  the  family  of  man.  We 
can  trace  it  in  the  theology  of  savage  life ;  nor  is  it  wholly 
overborne  by  the  artificial  theology  of  a  more  complex  and 
idolatrous  paganism.  Neither  crime  nor  civilization  can  ex- 
tinguish it ;  and,  whether  in  the  "  conscientia  scelerum  "  of 
the  fierce  and  frenzied  Catiline,  or  in  the  tranquil  contem- 
plative musings  of  Socrates  and  Cicero,  we  find  the  impres- 
sion of  at  once  a  righteous  and  reigning  Sovereign. 

XXXIII.     THE  BATTLE   OF   LIFE.— S.  Olin. 

Some  one  asked  the  Duke  of  Wellington  what  his  secret 
was  for  winning  battles.  And  he  said  that  he  had  no  secret, 
that  he  did  not  know  how  to  win  battles,  and  that  no  man 
knew.  For  all,  he  said,  that  man  could  do  was  to  look  be- 
forehand steadily  at  all  the  chances,  and  lay  all  possible 
plans  beforehand  ;  but  from  the  moment  the  battle  began, 
he  said,  no  mortal  prudence  was  of  use,  and  no  mortal  man 
could  know  what  the  end  would  be.  A  thousand  new  acci- 
dents might  spring  up  every  hour,  and  scatter  all  his  plans 
to  the  winds ;  and  all  that  man  could  do  was  to  comfort  him- 
self with  the  thought  that  he  had  clone  his  best,  and  to  trust 
in  God. 

Now,  my  friends,  learn  a  lesson  from  this,  a  lesson  for  the 
battle  of  life,  which  every  one  of  us  has  to  fight  from  our 
cradle  to  our  grave  —  the  battle  against  misery,  poverty,  mis- 
fortune, sickness — the  battle  against  worse  enemies  even  than 
they  —  the  battle  against  our  own  weak  hearts  and  the  sins 
which  so  easily  beset  us  ;  against  laziness,  dishonesty,  profli- 
gacy, bad  tempers,  hard-heartedness,  deserved  disgrace,  the 


NO    NATIONAL    GREATNESS    WITHOUT    MORALITY. 

contempt  of  our  neighbors,  and  just  punishment  froi 
mighty  God.  Take  a  lesson,  I  say,  from  the  great  dul 
the  battle  of  life.  Be  not  fretful  and  anxious  about  the 
morrow.  Face  things  like  men  ;  count  the  chances  like  men ; 
lay  your  plans  like  men ;  but  remember,  like  men,  that  a 
fresh  chance  may  at  any  moment  spoil  all  your  plans;  re- 
member that  there  are  a  thousand  dangers  round  you  from 
which  your  prudence  cannot  save  you.  Do  your  best,  and 
then,  like  the  great  duke,  comfort  yourself  with  the  thought 
that  you  have  done  your  best,  and,  like  him,  trust  in  God. 
Remember  that  God  is  really  and  in  very  truth  your  Father, 
and  that  without  him  not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  ;  and 
are  ye  not  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows,  O  ye  of  little 
faith  ? 

XXXIV.     N< )  NATIONAL  GREATNESS   WITHOUT  MORALITY. 

W.  E.  Chan xixg. 

When  we  look  forward  to  the  probable  growth  of  this 
countrv  :  when  we  think  of  the  millions  of  human  beings 
who  are  to  spread  over  our  present  territory  ;  of  the  career 
of  improvement  and  glory  open  to  this  new  people;  of  the 
impulse  which  free  institutions,  if  prosperous,  may  be  ex- 
pected to  give  to  philosophy,  religion,  science,  literature,  and 
arts ;  of  the  vast  field  in  which  the  experiment  is  to  be 
made ;  of  what  the  unfettered  powers  of  man  may  achieve  : 
of  the  bright  pages  of  history  which  our  fathers  have  filled, 
and  of  the  advantages  under  which  their  toils  and  virtues 
have  placed  us  for  carrying  on  their  work, — when  we  think 
of  all  this,  can  we  help,  for  a  moment,  surrendering  ourselves 
to  bright  visions  of  our  country's  glory,  before  which  all  the 
glories  of  the  past  are  to  fade  away  ?  Is  it  presumption  to 
say,  that,  if  just  to  ourselves  and  all  nations,  we  shall  be  felt 
through  this  whole  continent,  that  we  shall  spread  our  lan- 
guage, institutions,  and  civilization  through  a  wider  space 
than   any    nation    has   yet    filled  with    a   like    beneficent   in- 


208  SELECTIONS. 

fiuence  ?  And  are  we  prepared  to  barter  these  hopes,  this 
sublime  moral  empire,  tor  conquests  by  force  ?  Are  we  pre- 
pared to  sink  to  the  level  of  unprincipled  nations,  to  content 
ourselves  with  a  vulgar,  guilty  greatness,  to  adopt  in  our 
youth  maxims  and  ends  which  must  brand  our  future  with 
sordidness,  oppression,  and  shame  ?  This  country  cannot 
without  peculiar  infamy  run  the  common  race  of  national  ra- 
pacity. Our  origin,  institutions,  and  position  are  peculiar, 
and  all  favor  an  upright,  honorable  course.  We  have  not 
the  apologies  of  nations  hemmed  in  by  narrow  bounds,  or 
threatened  by  the  overshadowing  power  of  ambitious  neigh- 
bors. If  we  surrender  ourselves  to  a  selfish  policy,  we  shall 
sin  almost  without  temptation,  and  forfeit  opportunities  of 
greatness  vouchsafed  to  no  other  people,  for  a  prize  below 
contempt. 

I  have  alluded  to  the  want  of  wisdom  with  which  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  speak  of  our  destiny  as  a  people.  We  are 
destined  (that  is  the  word)  to  overspread  North  America ; 
and,  intoxicated  with  the  idea,  it  matters  little  to  us  how  we 
accomplish  our  fate.  To  spread,  to  supplant  others,  to  cover 
a  boundless  space,  this  seems  our  ambition,  no  matter  what 
influence  we  spread  with  us.  Why  cannot  we  rise  to  noble 
conceptions  of  our  destiny  ?  Why  do  we  not  feel  that  our 
work  as  a  nation  is,  to  carry  freedom,  religion,  science,  and  a 
nobler  form  of  human  nature  over  this  continent  ?  and  why 
do  we  not  remember,  that  to  diffuse  these  blessings  we  must 
first  cherish  them  in  our  own  borders ;  and  that  whatever 
deeply  and  permanently  corrupts  us  will  make  our  spreading 
influence  a  curse,  not  a  blessing,  to  this  new  world  ?  I  am 
not  prophet  enough  to  read  our  fate.  I  believe,  indeed,  that 
we  are  to  make  our  futurity  for  ourselves.  I  believe  that  a 
nation's  destiny  lies  in  its  character,  in  the  principles  which 
govern  its  policy,  and  bear  rule  in  the  hearts  of  its  citizens. 
I  take  my  stand  on  God's  moral  and  eternal  law.  A  nation, 
renouncing  and  defying  this,  cannot  be  free,  cannot  be  great. 


AWAIT    THE    ISSUE.  2CX) 

XXXV.     AWAIT  THE   ISSUE.  —  Carlyle. 

i.  In  this  world,  with  its  wild  whirling  eddies  and  mad  foam 
oceans,  where  men  and  nations  perish  as  if  without  law,  and 
judgment  for  an  unjust  thing  is  sternly  delayed,  dost  thou 
think  that  there  is  therefore  no  justice  ?  It  is  what  the  fool 
hath  said  in  his  heart.  It  is  what  the  wise,  in  all  times,  were 
wise  because  they  denied,  and  knew  forever  not  to  be.  I  tell 
thee  again,  there  is  nothing  else  but  justice.  One  strong 
thing  I  find  here  below  :  the  just  thing,  and  true  thing. 

2.  My  friend,  if  thou  hadst  all  the  artillery  of  Woolwich 
trundling  at  thy  back  in  support  of  an  unjust  thing,  and  infi- 
nite bonfires  visibly  waiting  ahead  of  thee,  to  blaze  centuries 
long  for  thy  victory  on  behalf  of  it,  I  would  advise  thee  to 
call  halt,  to  fling  clown  thy  baton,  and  say,  "  In  Heaven's 
name,  no ! " 

3.  Thy  "  success  "  ?  Poor  fellow,  what  will  thy  success 
amount  to  ?  If  the  thing  is  unjust,  thou  hast  not  succeeded  ; 
no,  not  though  bonfires  blazed  from  north  to  south,  and  bells 
rang,  and  editors  wrote  leading  articles,  and  the  just  things 
lav  trampled  out  of  sight,  to  all  mortal  eyes  an  abolished  and 
annihilated  thing. 

4.  It  is  the  right  and  noble  alone  that  will  have  victory  in 
this  struggle  ;  the  rest  is  wholly  an  obstruction,  a  postpone- 
ment and  fearful  imperilment  of  the  victory.  Towards  an 
eternal  centre  of  right  and  nobleness,  and  of  that  only,  is  all 
confusion  tending.  We  already  know  whither  it  is  all  tend- 
ing ;  what  will  have  victory,  what  will  have  none  !  The  heav- 
iest will  reach  the  centre.  The  heaviest  has  its  deflections, 
it>  obstructions,  nay,  at  times  its  reboundings  ;  whereupon 
some  blockhead  shall  be  heard  jubilating,  "  See,  your  heav- 
iest ascends!"  but  at  all  moments  it  is  moving  centreward, 
fast  as  is  convenient  for  it;  sinking,  sinking;  and,  by  laws 
older  than  the  world,  old  as  the  maker's  first  plan  of  the 
world,  it  has  to  arrive  there. 

14 


2IO  SELECTIONS. 

5.  Await  the  issue.  In  all  battles,  if  you  await  the  issue, 
each  fighter  has  prospered  according  to  his  right.  His  right 
and  his  might,  at  the  close  of  the  account,  were  one  and  the 
same.  He  has  fought  with  all  his  might,  and  in  exact  pro- 
portion to  all  his  right,  he  has  prevailed.  His  very  death  is 
no  victory  over  him.  He  dies  indeed  ;  but  his  work  lives, 
very  truly  lives. 

6.  A  heroic  Wallace,  quartered  on  the  scaffold,  cannot 
hinder  that  his  Scotland  become,  one  day,  a  part  of  England ; 
but  he  does  hinder  that  it  become,  on  tyrannous,  unfair 
terms,  a  part  of  it ;  commands  still,  as  with  a  god's  voice, 
from  his  old  Valhalla  and  Temple  of  the  Brave,  that  there  be 
a  just,  real  union,  as  of  brother  and  brother,  not  a  false  and 
merely  semblant  one  as  of  slave  and  master.  If  the  union 
with  England  be  in  fact  one  of  Scotland's  chief  blessings,  we 
thank  Wallace  withal  that  it  was  not  the  chief  curse.  Scot- 
land is  not  Ireland  :  no,  because  brave  men  rose  there  and 
said,  "  Behold,  ye  must  not  tread  us  down  like  slaves ;  and 
ye  shall  not,  and  cannot !  " 

7.  Fight  on,  thou  brave,  true  heart,  and  falter  not,  through 
dark  fortune  and  through  bright.  The  cause  thou  tightest 
for,  so  far  as  it  is  true,  no  further,  yet  precisely  so  far,  is 
very  sure  of  victory.  The  falsehood  alone  of  it  will  be  con- 
quered, will  be  abolished,  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  but  the  truth  of 
it  is  part  of  Nature's  own  laws,  co-operates  with  the  world's 
eternal  tendencies,  and  cannot  be  conquered. 

XXXVI.    THE   MIRACLES  OF  NATURE.  —  Carlyle. 

You  remember  that  fancy  of  Aristotle's,  of  a  man  who  had 
grown  to  maturity  in  some  dark  distance,  and  was  brought  on 
a  sudden  into  the  upper  air  to  see  the  sun  rise.  What  would 
his  wonder  be,  says  the  philosopher,  his  rapt  astonishment,  at 
the  sight  we  daily  witness  with  indifference  !  With  the  free 
open  sense  of  a  child,  yet  with  the  ripe  faculty  of  a  man,  his 


THE    MIRACLES    OF    NATURE.  211 

whole  heart  would  be  kindled  by  that  sight;  he  would  discern 
it  well  to  be  God-like  ;  his  son  would  fall  clown  in  worship 
before  it.  Now,  just  such  a  child-like  greatness  was  in  the 
primitive  nature.  The  first  Pagan  thinker  among  rude  men, 
the  first  man  that  began  to  think,  was  precisely  the  child-man 
of  Aristotle.  Simple,  open  as  a  child,  yet  with  the  depth  and 
strength  of  a  man.  Nature  had  as  yet  no  name  to  him  ;  he 
had  not  yet  united  under  a  name  the  infinite  variety  of  sights, 
sounds,  shapes,  and  motions,  which  we  now  collectively  name 
Universe,  Nature,  or  the  like,  and  so  with  a  name,  dismiss  it 
from  us.  To  the  wild  deep-hearted  man  all  was  yet  new, 
not  veiled  under  names  or  formulas  ;  it  stood  naked,  flashing 
in  on  him  there,  beautiful,  awful,  indescribable.  Nature  was 
to  this  man  what  to  the  Thinker  and  Prophet  it  forever  is,  — 
preter  natural.  This  green,  flowery,  rock-built  earth,  the  trees, 
the  mountains,  rivers,  many-sounding  seas  ;  that  great  deep 
sea  of  azure  that  swims  overhead  ;  the  winds  sweeping 
through  it  ;  the  black  cloud  fashioning  itself  together,  now 
pouring  out  fire,  now  hail  and  rain  ;  what  is  it  ?  Ay,  what? 
At  bottom  we  do  not  yet  know ;  we  can  never  know  at  all. 
It  is  not  by  our  superior  insight  that  we  escape  the  difficulty  ; 
it  is  by  our  superior  levity,  our  inattention,  our  want  of  insight. 
It  is  by  not  thinking  that  we  cease  to  wonder  at  it.  Hardened 
round  us,  encasing  wholly  every  motion  we  form,  is  a  wrap- 
page of  traditions,  hearsays,  mere  words.  We  call  that  fire  of 
the  black  thunder-cloud  "  electricity,"  and  lecture  learnedly 
about  it,  and  grind  the  like  of  it  out  of  glass  and  silk  ; 
but  what  is  it  ?  What  made  it  ?  Whence  comes  it  ?  Whither 
goes  it  ?  Science  has  done  much  for  us  ;  but  it  is  a  poor 
science  that  wrould  hide  from  us  the  great  deep  sacred  infini- 
tude of  Nescience,  whither  we  can  never  penetrate,  on 
which  all  science  swims  as  a  mere  superficial  film.  This 
world,  after  all  our  science  and  sciences,  is  still  a  miracle, 
wonderful,  inscrutable,  magical  and  more,  to  whosoever  will 
think  of  it. 


212  SELECTIONS. 

XXXVII.     TRUE  GRANDEUR   OF  NATIONS.  —  Charles  Sumner. 

Casting  our  eyes  over  the  history  of  nations,  with  horror 
we  discern  the  succession  of  murderous  slaughters,  by  which 
their  progress  has  been  marked.  Even  as  the  hunter  traces 
the  wild  beast,  when  pursued  to  his  lair,  by  the  drops  of 
blood  on  the  earth,  so  we  follow  man,  weary,  staggering  with 
wounds,  through  the  black  forest  of  the  past,  which  he  has 
reddened  with  his  gore.  Oh,  let  it  not  be  in  the  future  ages 
as  in  those  which  we  now  contemplate  !  Let  the  grandeur 
of  man  be  discerned,  not  in  bloody  victories,  or  in  ravenous 
conquests,  but  in  the  blessings  which  he  has  secured ;  in  the 
good  he  has  accomplished ;  in  the  triumphs  of  benevolence 
and  justice  ;  in  the  establishment  of  perpetual  peace. 

As  the  ocean  washes  every  shore,  and,  with  all-embracing 
arms,  clasps  every  land,  while,  on  its  heaving  bosom  it  bears 
the  products  of  various  climes  ;  so  peace  surrounds,  protects, 
and  upholds  all  other  blessings.  Without  it,  commerce  is 
vain,  the  ardor  of  industry  is  restrained,  justice  is  arrested, 
happiness  is  blasted,  virtue  sickens  and  dies. 

And  peace  has  its  own  peculiar  victories,  in  comparison  with 
which  Marathon  and  Bannockburn  and  Bunker  Hill,  fields 
held  sacred  in  the  history  of  human  freedom,  shall  lose  their 
lustre.  Our  own  Washington  rises  to  a  truly  heavenly  stature, 
—  not  when  we  follow  him  over  the  ice  of  the  Delaware  to 
the  capture  of  Trenton,  —  not  when  we  behold  him  victorious 
over  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown,  —  but  when  we  regard  him,  in 
noble  deference  to  justice,  refusing  the  kingly  crown  which  a 
faithless  soldiery  proffered,  and,  at  a  later  day,  upholding  the 
peaceful  neutrality  of  the  country,  while  he  received  unmoved 
the  clamor  of  the  people  wickedly  crying  for  war. 

XXXVIII.    CICERO  AGAINST  CATILINE. —  Cicero. 

i.  How  far,  O  Catiline,  wilt  thou  abuse  our  patience  ?  How 
long  shalt  thou  baffle  justice  in  thy  mad  career  ?     To  what 


CICERO    AGAINST    CATILINE.  213 

extreme  wilt  thou  carry  thy  audacity  ?  Art  thou  nothing 
daunted  by  the  nightly  watch,  posted  to  secure  the  Palatium  ? 
Nothing,  by  the  city  guards  ?  Nothing,  by  the  rally  of  all 
good  citizens  ?  Nothing,  by  the  assembling  of  a  Senate  in 
this  fortified  place  ?  Nothing,  by  the  averted  looks  of  all 
here  present  ? 

2.  Seest  thou  not  that  all  thy  plots  are  exposed?  —  that 
thy  wretched  conspiracy  is  laid  bare  to  the  knowledge  of 
every  man  here  in  the  Senate?  —  that  we  are  well  aware  of 
thy  proceedings  of  last  night ;  of  the  night  before ;  the  place 
of  meeting,  the  company  convoked,  the  measures  concerted? 

3.  Oh,  the  times  !  Oh,  the  morals  of  the  times  !  The  Sen- 
ate understand  all  this.  The  Consul  sees  it.  And  yet  the 
traitor  lives  !  Lives  ?  Ay,  truly,  and  confronts  us  here  in 
council,  —  presumes  to  take  part  in  our  deliberations,  —  and, 
with  his  calculating  eye,  marks  out  each  man  of  us  for  slaugh- 
ter !  And  we,  the  while,  think  we  have  amply  discharged  our 
duty  to  the  State,  if  we  do  but  succeed  in  warding  off  this 
madman's  sword  and  fury! 

4.  Long  since,  O  Catiline,  ought  the  Consul  to  have 
ordered  thee  to  execution,  and  brought  upon  thy  own  head 
the  destruction  thou  hast  been  plotting  against  others ! 
There  was  in  Rome  that  virtue  once,  that  a  wicked  citizen  was 
held  more  execrable  than  the  deadliest  foe.  For  thee,  Cati- 
line, we  have  still  a  law.  Think  not,  because  we  are  for- 
bearing, that  we  are  powerless. 

5.  We  have  a  statute,  —  though  it  rests  among  our  ar- 
chives like  a  sword  in  its  scabbard,  —  a  statute  which  makes 
thy  life  the  forfeit  of  thy  crimes.  And,  should  I  order  thee 
to  be  instantly  seized  and  put  to  death,  I  do  not  doubt  that 
all  good  in  n  would  say  that  the  punishment,  instead  of  being 
too  cruel,  was  only  too  long  deferred. 

6.  Hut,  for  sufficient  reasons,  1  will  awhile  postpone  the 
blow,  7'lien  \\\\\  1  doom  tine,  when  no  man  is  to  be  found, 
so  lost  to  reason,  so  depraved,  so   like  thyself,  that  he  will  not 


2  14  SELECTIONS. 

admit  the  sentence  was  deserved.     While  there  is  one  man 
who  ventures  to  defend  thee,  live  ! 

7.  But  thou  shalt  live  so  beset,  so  hemmed  in,  so  watched, 
by  the  vigilant  guards  I  have  placed  around  thee,  that  thou 
shalt  not  stir  a  foot  against  the  Republic  without  my  knowl- 
edge. There  shall  be  eyes  to  detect  thy  slightest  movement, 
and  ears  to  catch  thy  wariest  whisper.  Thou  shalt  be  seen 
and  heard  when  thou  dost  not  dream  of  a  witness  near. 
The  darkness  of  night  shall  not  cover  thy  treason  ;  the  walls 
of  privacy  shall  not  stifle  its  voice. 

8.  Baffled  on  all  sides,  thy  most  secret  projects  clear  as 
noonday,  what  canst  thou  now  devise  ?  Proceed,  plot,  con- 
spire, as  thou  wilt;  there  is  nothing  thou  canst  contrive,  pro- 
pose, attempt,  which  I  shall  not  promptly  be  made  aware  of. 
Thou  shalt  soon  be  convinced  that  I  am  even  more  active  in 
providing  for  the  preservation  of  the  State,  than  thou  in  plot- 
ting its  destruction  ! 

XXXIX.     FROM   HENRY  V.  —  Shakespeare. 

Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more ; 

Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead  ! 

In  peace,  there  's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man 

As  modest  stillness,  and  humility  : 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger  ; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favor'd  rage ; 

Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect ; 

Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head, 

Like  the  brass  cannon  ;  let  the  brow  o'erwhelm  it, 

As  fearfully  as  doth  a  galled  rock 

O'erhang  and  jutty  his  confounded  base, 

Swill'd  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 

Now  set  the  teeth,  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide  ; 

Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 

To  his  full  height 


NATIONAL    BANKRUPTCY.  215 

XL.    NATIONAL   BANKRUPTCY.  —  Mirabeau. 
[From  a  speech  before  the  Xational  Convention  of  France,  i"j8g^\ 

i.  I  hear  much  said  of  patriotism,  appeals  to  patriotism, 
transports  of  patriotism.  Gentlemen,  why  prostitute  this 
noble  word  ?  Is  it  so  very  magnanimous  to  give  up  a  part 
of  your  income  in  order  to  save  your  whole  property  ?  This 
is  very  simple  arithmetic ;  and  he  that  hesitates,  deserves 
contempt  rather  than  indignation. 

2.  Yes,  gentlemen,  it  is  to  your  immediate  self-interest,  to 
your  most  familiar  notions  of  prudence  and  policy,  that  I 
now  appeal.  I  say  not  to  you  now  as  heretofore,  beware 
how  you  give  the  world  the  first  example  of  an  assembled 
nation  untrue  to  the  public  faith.  I  ask  you  not,  as  hereto- 
fore, what  right  you  have  to  freedom,  or  what  means  of 
maintaining  it,  if,  at  your  first  step  in  administration,  you 
outdo  in  baseness  all  the  old  and  corrupt  governments.  I 
tell  you,  that  unless  you  prevent  this  catastrophe,  you  will  all 
be  involved  in  the  general  ruin  ;  and  that  you  are  yourselves 
the  persons  most  deeply  interested  in  making  the  sacrifices 
which  the  government  demands  of  you. 

3.  I  exhort  you,  then,  most  earnestly,  to  vote  these  extraor- 
dinary supplies  ;  and  God  grant  that  they  may  prove  suffi- 
cient !  Vote  them,  I  beseech  you  ;  for,  even  if  you  doubt 
the  expediency  of  the  means,  you  know  perfectly  well  that 
the  supplies  are  necessary,  and  that  you  are  incapable  of 
raising  them  in  any  other  way.  Vote  them  at  once,  for  the 
crisis  does  not  admit  of  delay;  and,  if  it  occurs,  we  must 
be  responsible  for  the  consequences. 

4.  Beware  of  asking  for  time.  Misfortune  accords  it 
never.  While  you  are  lingering,  the  evil  day  will  come 
upon  you.  Why,  gentlemen,  it  is  but  a  few  days  since 
that  upon  occasion  of  some  foolish  bustle  in  the  Palais 
Royal,  some  ridiculous  insurrection  that  existed  nowhere 
but  in  the  heads  of  a  few  weak  or  designing  individuals,  we 


2l6  SELECTIONS. 

were  told  with  emphasis,  "  Catiline  is  at  the  gates  of  Rome, 
and  yet  we  deliberate."  You  know,  gentlemen,  that  this  was 
all  imagination.  We  are  far  from  being  at  Rome  ;  nor  is 
there  any  Catiline  at  the  gates  of  Paris  But  now  are  we 
threatened  with  a  real  danger  ;  bankruptcy,  national  bank- 
ruptcy, is  before  you  ;  it  threatens  to  swallow  up  your  per- 
sons, your  property,  your  honor,  —  and  yet  you  deliberate. 

XLI.     DISUNION  AND   WAR  INSEPARABLE.  —  Henry  Clay. 

Mr.  President,  I  have  said  what  I  solemnly  believe,  — 
that  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  and  war  are  identical 
and  inseparable  ;  that  they  are  convertible  terms.  Such  a 
war,  too,  as  that  would  be,  following  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union  !  Sir,  we  may  search  the  pages  of  history,  and  none  so 
furious,  so  bloody,  so  implacable,  so  exterminating,  from  the 
wars  of  Greece  clown,  including  those  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  England  and  the  Revolution  of  France,  —  none,  none  of 
them  raged  with  such  violence,  or  was  ever  conducted  with 
such  bloodshed  and  enormities,  as  will  that  war  which  shall 
follow  that  disastrous  event  —  if  that  event  ever  happen — of 
dissolution. 

And  what  would  be  its  termination  ?  Standing  armies 
and  navies,  to  an  extent  draining  the  revenues  of  each  por- 
tion of  the  dissevered  empire,  would  be  created  ;  exterminat- 
ing wars  would  follow  —  not  a  war  of  two  or  three  years,  but 
of  interminable  duration  —  an  exterminating  war  would  fol- 
low, until  some  Philip  or  Alexander,  some  Caesar  or  Napo- 
leon, would  rise  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  and  solve  the 
capacity  of  man  for  self  government,  and  crush  the  liberties 
of  both  the  dissevered  portions  of  this  Union.  Can  you  doubt 
it  ?  Look  at  history  —  consult  the  pages  of  all  history,  an- 
cient or  modern  ;  look  at  human  nature  —  look  at  the  char- 
acter of  the  contest  in  which  you  would  be  engaged  in  the 
supposition  of  a  war  following  the  dissolution  of  the  Union, 


THE    PRESERVATION    OF    THE    UNION.  2\J 

such  as  I  have  suggested — and  I  ask  you  if  it  is  possible  for 
you  to  doubt  that  the  final  but  perhaps  distant  termination 
of  the  whole  will  be  some  despot  treading  down  the  liberties 
of  the  people  ?  —  that  the  final  result  will  be  the  extinction 
of  this  last  glorious  light  which  is  leading  all  mankind,  who 
are  gazing  upon  it,  to  cherish  hope  and  anxious  expectation 
that  the  liberty  which  prevails  here  will  sooner  or  later  be 
advanced  throughout  the  civilized  world  ?  Can  you  lightly 
contemplate  the  consequences  ?  Can  you  yield  yourself  to  a 
torrent  of  passion,  amidst  dangers  which  1  have  depicted  in 
colors  far  short  of  what  would  be  the  reality,  if  the  event 
should  ever  happen?  I  conjure  gentlemen  —  whether  from 
the  South  or  the  North,  by  all  they  hold  dear  in  the  world  — 
by  all  their  love  of  liberty  —  by  all  their  veneration  for  their 
ancestors  —  by  all  their  regard  for  posterity  —  by  all  their 
gratitude  to  Him  who  has  bestowed  upon  them  such  unnum- 
bered blessings —  by  all  the  duties  which  they  owe  toman- 
kind,  and  all  the  duties  which  they  owe  to  themselves — by 
all  these  considerations  I  implore  them  to  pause  —  solemnly 
to  pause  —  at  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  before  the  fearful  and 
disastrous  leap  is  taken  in  the  yawning  abyss  below,  which 
will  inevitably  lead  to  certain  and  irretrievable  destruction. 
And,  finally,  I  implore,  as  the  best  blessing  which  heaven 
can  bestow  upon  me  upon  earth,  that  if  the  direful  and  sad 
event  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  shall  happen,  I  may  not 
survive  to  behold  the  sad  and  heart-rending  spectacle. 

XLII.    THE  PRESERVATION  01  THE  UNION.— Daniel  Webster. 

i  .  I  profess,  sir,  in  my  career  hitherto,  to  have  kept 
steadily  in  view  the  prosperity  and  honor  of  the  whole  coun- 
try, and  the  preservation  of  our  Federal  Union.  It  is  to  that 
Union  we  owe  our  safety  at  home,  and  our  consideration  and 
dignity  abroad.  It  is  to  that  Union  that  we  are  chiefly 
indebted  for  whatever  makes  us  most  proud  of  our  country. 
That  Union  we  reached  only  by  the  discipline  of  our  virtue,  in 


21 8  SELECTIONS. 

the  severe  school  of  adversity.  It  had  its  origin  in  the 
necessities  of  disordered  finance,  prostrate  commerce,  and 
ruined  credit.  Under  its  benign  influences,  these  great 
interests  immediately  awoke,  as  from  the  dead,  and  sprang 
forth  with  newness  of  life.  Every  year  of  its  duration  has 
teemed  with  fresh  proof  of  its  utility  and  its  blessings ;  and 
although  our  country  has  stretched  out,  wider  and  wider,  and 
our  population  stretched  farther  and  farther,  they  have  not 
overturned  its  protection,  or  its  benefits.  It  has  been  to  us 
all  a  copious  fountain  of  national,  social,  and  personal  hap- 
piness. 

2.  I  have  not  allowed  myself,  sir,  to  look  beyond  the 
Union,  to  see  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the  dark  recess 
behind.  I  have  not  coolly  weighed  the  chances  of  preserv- 
ing liberty,  when  the  bonds  that  unite  us  together  shall  be 
broken  asunder.  I  have  not  accustomed  myself  to  hang 
over  the  precipice  of  disunion,  to  see  whether,  in  my  short 
sight,  I  can  fathom  the  depth  of  the  abyss  below  ;  nor  could 
I  regard  him  as  a  safe  counsellor,  in  the  affairs  of  this  govern- 
ment, whose  thoughts  should  be  mainly  bent  on  considering, 
not  how  the  Union  should  be  best  preserved,  but  how  toler- 
able might  be  the  condition  of  the  people  when  it  shall  be 
broken  up  and  destroyed. 

3.  While  the  Union  lasts,  we  have  high,  exciting,  grat- 
ifying prospects  spread  out  before  us,  for  us  and  our 
children.  Beyond  that  I  seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil. 
God  grant  that,  in  my  day  at  least,  that  curtain  may  not  rise. 
God  grant  that  on  my  vision  never  may  be  opened  what  lies 
behind.  When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold  for  the 
last  time  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him  shining  on 
the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once  glorious 
Union ;  on  States  dissevered,  discordant,  belligerent ;  on  a 
land  rent  with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it  may  be,  in  fraternal 
blood  !  Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering  glance,  rather, 
behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Republic,  now  known  and 


DUTY    OF    AMERICA.  2KJ 

honored  throughout  the  earth,  still  full  high  advanced,  its 
arms  and  trophies  streaming  in  their  original  lustre,  not  a 
stripe  erased  or  polluted,  not  a  single  star  obscured  ;  bear- 
ing for  its  motto,  no  such  miserable  interrogatory  as,  What 
is  all  this  worth  ?  Nor  those  other  words  of  delusion  and 
folly  —  liberty  first  and  union  afterwards  —  bnt  everywhere, 
spread  all  over  in  characters  of  living  light,  blazing  on  all  its 
ample  folds  as  they  float  over  the  sea  and  over  the  land,  and 
in  every  wind  under  the  whole  heavens,  that  other  sentiment 
dear  to  every  true  American  heart  —  liberty  and  union,  now 
and  forever,  one  and  inseparable. 

XLIII.    DUTY  OF  AMERICA.  — Daniel  Webster. 

Neither  individuals  nor  nations  can  perform  their  part 
well,  until  they  understand  and  feel  its  importance,  and  com- 
prehend and  justly  appreciate  all  the  duties  belonging  to  it. 
It  is  not  to  inflate  national  vanity,  nor  to  swell  a  light  and 
empty  feeling  of  self-importance,  but  it  is  that  we  may  judge 
justly  of  our  situation,  and  of  our  duties,  that  I  earnestly 
urge  this  consideration  of  our  position,  and  our  character, 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  It  cannot  be  denied,  but  by 
those  who  would  dispute  against  the  sun,  that  with  America, 
and  in  America,  a  new  era  commences  in  human  affairs. 
This  era  is  distinguished  by  free  representative  governments, 
by  entire  religious  liberty,  by  improved  systems  of  national 
intercourse,  by  a  newly  awakened  and  unconquerable  spirit 
of  free  inquiry,  and  by  a  diffusion  of  knowledge  through  the 
community,  such  as  has  been  before  altogether  unknown  and 
unheard  of.  America,  America,  our  country,  our  own  dear 
and  native  land,  is  inseparably  connected,  fast  bound  up,  in 
fortune  and  by  fate,  with  these  great  interests.  If  they  fall, 
we  fall  with  them  ;  if  they  stand,  it  will  be  because  we  have 
upholden  them.  Let  us  contemplate,  then,  this  connection, 
which  binds  the  prosperity  of  others  to  our  own;  and  let  us 


220  SELECTIONS. 

manfully  discharge  all  the  duties  which  it  imposes.  If  we 
cherish  the  virtues  and  the  principles  of  our  fathers,  Heaven 
will  assist  us  to  carry  on  the  work  of  human  liberty  and  human 
happiness.  Auspicious  omens  cheer  us.  Great  examples 
are  before  us.  Our  own  firmament  now  shines  brightly  upon 
our  path.  Washington  is  in  the  clear  upper  sky.  There 
other  stars  have  now  joined  the  American  constellation  ;  they 
circle  round  their  centre,  and  the  heavens  beam  with  new 
light.  Beneath  this  illumination,  let  us  walk  the  course  of 
life,  and  at  its  close  devoutly  commend  our  beloved  country> 
the  common  parent  of  us  all,  to  the  Divine  Benignity. 

XLIV.     TREATMENT  OF  THE  AMERICAN  COLONIES.—  Chatham. 

i.  My  Lords,  —  I  rise  with  astonishment  to  see  these 
papers  brought  to  your  table  at  so  late  a  period  of  this  business ; 
papers,  to  tell  us  what  ?  Why,  what  all  the  world  knew 
before  ;  that  the  Americans,  irritated  by  repeated  injuries, 
and  stripped  of  their  inborn  rights  and  dearest  privileges, 
have  resisted,  and  entered  into  associations  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  their  common  liberties. 

2.  Had  the  early  situation  of  the  people  of  Boston  been 
attended  to,  things  would  not  have  come  to  this.  But  the 
infant  complaints  of  Boston  were  literally  treated  like  the 
capricious  squalls  of  a  child,  who,  it  was  said,  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  aggrieved  or  not.  But  full  well  I  knew  at 
that  time  that  this  child,  if  not  redressed,  would  soon  assume 
the  courage  and  voice  of  a  man.  Full  well  I  knew  that  the 
sons  of  ancestors,  born  under  the  same  free  constitution,  and 
once  breathing  the  same  liberal  air,  as  Englishmen,  would 
resist  upon  the  same  principles  and  on  the  same  occasions. 

3.  What  has  government  done  ?  They  have  sent  an 
armed  force,  consisting  of  seventeen  thousand  men,  to  dra- 
goon the  Bostonians  into  what  is  called  their  duty;  and,  so 
far  from  once  turning  their  eyes  to  the  impolicy  and  destruc- 


TREATMENT    OF    THE    AMERICAN    COLONIES.  221 

tive  consequence  of  this  scheme,  are  constantly  sending  out 
more  troops.  And  we  are  told,  in  the  language  of  menace, 
that,  if  seventeen  thousand  men  won't  do,  fifty  thousand 
shall.  It  is  true,  my  lords,  with  this  force  they  may  ravage 
the  country,  waste  and  destroy  as  they  march  ;  but  in  the 
progress  of  fifteen  hundred  miles,  can  they  occupy  the  places 
they  have  passed  ?  Will  not  a  country  which  can  produce 
three  millions  of  people,  wronged  and  insulted  as  they  are, 
start  up,  like  hydras,  in  every  corner,  and  gather  fresh  strength 
from  fresh  opposition  ?  Nay,  what  dependence  can  you  have 
upon  the  soldiery,  the  unhappy  engines  of  your  wrath  ?  They 
are  Englishmen,  who  must  feel  for  the  privileges  of  English- 
men. Do  you  think  that  these  men  can  turn  their  arms  against 
their  brethren  ?  Surely  not.  A  victory  must  be  to  them  a 
defeat ;  and  carnage,  a  sacrifice. 

4.  But  it  is  not  merely  three  millions  of  people,  the  prod- 
uce of  America,  we  have  to  contend  with  in  this  unnatural 
struggle ;  many  more  are  on  their  side,  dispersed  over  the 
face  of  this  wide  empire.  Every  Whig  in  this  country  and  in 
Ireland  is  with  them.  Who,  then,  let  me  demand,  has  given, 
and  continues  to  give,  this  strange  and  unconstitutional 
advice  ? 

5.  I  do  not  mean  to  level  at  any  one  man,  or  any  particu- 
lar set  of  men  ;  but  thus  much  I  will  venture  to  declare,  that 
if  His  Majesty  continues  to  hear  such  counsellors,  he  will  not 
only  be  badly  advised,  but  undone.  He  may  continue,  in- 
deed, to  wear  his  crown  ;  but  it  will  not  be  worth  his  wearing. 
Robbed  of  so  principal  a  jewel  as  America,  it  will  lose  its 
lustre,  and  no  longer  beam  that  effulgence  which  should 
irradiate  the  brow  of  majesty. 

6.  In  this  alarming  crisis,  I  come,  with  this  p. .per  in  my 
hand,  to  offer  you  the  best  of  my  experience  and  advice; 
which  is,  that  an  humble  petition  be  presented  to  His  Maj- 
esty, beseeching  him,  that,  in  order  to  open  the  way  towards 
;i  happy  settlement  of  the  dangerous  troubles  in  America,  it 


222  SELECTIONS. 

may  graciously  please  him  that  immediate  orders  be  given  to 
General  Gage  for  removing  His  Majesty's  forces  from  the 
town  of  Boston.  And  this,  my  lords,  upon  the  most  mature 
and  deliberate  grounds,  is  the  best  advice  I  can  give  you  at 
this  juncture.  Such  conduct  will  convince  America  that  you 
mean  to  try  her  cause  in  the  spirit  of  freedom  and  inquiry, 
and  not  in  letters  of  blood.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost. 
Every  hour  is  big  with  danger.  Perhaps  while  I  am  now 
speaking,  the  decisive  blow  is  struck,  which  may  involve  mill- 
ions in  the  consequence.  And  believe  me,  the  very  first 
drop  of  blood  which  is  shed  will  cause  a  wound  which  may 
never  be  healed. 

XLV.     HYDER  ALI'S   REVENGE.  —  Burke. 

i.  When  at  length  Hyder  Ali  found  that  he  had  to  do 
with  men  who  either  would  sign  no  convention,  or  whom  no 
treaty  and  no  signature  could  bind,  and  who  were  the  deter- 
mined enemies  of  human  intercourse  itself,  he  decreed  to 
make  the  country  possessed  by  these  incorrigible  and  predes- 
tinated criminals  a  memorable  example  to  mankind.  He 
resolved,  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  a  mind  capacious  of  such 
things,  to  leave  the  whole  Carnatic  an  everlasting  monument 
of  vengeance,  and  to  put  perpetual  desolation  as  a  barrier 
between  him  and  those  against  whom  the  faith  which  holds 
the  moral  elements  of  the  world  together  was  no  protection. 

2.  He  became  at  length  so  confident  of  his  force,  so  col- 
lected in  his  might,  that  he  made  no  secret  whatsoever  of 
his  dreadful  resolution.  Having  terminated  his  disputes 
with  every  enemy  and  every  rival,  who  buried  their  mutual 
animosities  in  their  common  detestation  against  the  creditors 
of  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  he  drew  from  every  quarter  whatever 
a  savage  ferocity  could  add  to  his  new  rudiments  in  the  art  of 
destruction ;  and  compounding  all  the  materials  of  fury, 
havoc,  and  desolation  into  one  black  cloud,  he  hung  for  a 
while  on  the  declivities  of  the  mountains.     Whilst  the  authors 


HAVELOCK'S    HIGHLANDERS.  223 

of  all  these  evils  were  idly  and  stupidly  gazing  on  this  men- 
acing meteor,  which  blackened  all  their  horizon,  it  suddenly 
burst,  and  poured  down  the  whole  of  its  contents  upon  the 
plains  of  the  Carnatic. 

3.  Then  ensued  a  scene  of  woe,  the  like  of  which  no  eye 
had  seen,  no  heart  conceived,  and  of  which  no  tongue  can 
adequately  tell.  All  the  horrors  of  war  before  known  or 
heard  of  were  mercy  to  that  new  havoc.  A  storm  of  univer- 
sal fire  blasted  every  field,  consumed  every  house,  destroyed 
every  temple.  The  miserable  inhabitants,  flying  from  their 
flaming  villages,  in  part  were  slaughtered ;  others,  without 
regard  to  sex,  to  age,  to  the  respect  of  rank  or  sacredness  of 
function,  fathers  torn  from  children,  husbands  from  wives, 
enveloped  in  a  whirlwind  of  cavalry,  and  amidst  the  goading 
spears  of  drivers,  and  the  trampling  of  pursuing  horses,  were 
swept  into  captivity  in  an  unknown  and  hostile  land.  Those 
who  were  able  to  evade  this  tempest  fled  to  the  walled  cities ; 
but  escaping  from  fire,  sword,  and  exile,  they  fell  into  the 
jaws  of  famine.  For  eighteen  months,  without  intermission, 
this  destruction  raged  from  the  gates  of  Madras  to  the  gates 
of  Tanjore;  and  so  completely  did  these  masters  of  their  art, 
Hyder  Ali  and  his  more  ferocious  son,  absolve  themselves  of 
their  impious  vow,  that,  when  the  British  armies  traversed,  as 
they  did,  the  Carnatic  for  hundreds  of  miles  in  all  directions, 
through  the  whole  line  of  their  march  they  did  not  see  one 
man,  not  one  woman,  not  one  child,  not  one  four-footed  beast 
of  any  description  whatever.  One  dead,  uniform  silence 
reigned  over  the  whole  region. 

XLVI.     HAVELOCK'S  HIGHLANDERS.  —  W.  Brock. 

The  Highlanders  had  never  fought  in  that  quarter  of  India 
before,  and  their  character  was  unknown  to  the  foe.  Their 
advance  has  been  described  by  spectators  as  a  beautiful  illus- 
tration of  the  power  of  discipline.  With  sloped  arms  and 
rapid  tread,  through  the  broken  and  heavy  lands,  and  through 


224  SELECTIONS. 

the  well-directed  fire  of  artillery  and  musketry,  linked  in  their 
unfaltering  lines  they  followed  their  mounted  leaders,  the 
mark  for  many  rifles.  They  did  not  pause  to  fire  ;  did  not 
even  cheer ;  no  sound  from  them  was  heard  as  that  living 
wall  came  on  and  on,  to  conquer  or  to  die.  Now  they  are 
near  the  village  ;  but  their  enemies  occupy  every  house,  and 
from  every  point  a  galling  fire  is  poured  on  them  from  the 
heavy  guns.  The  men  lie  clown  till  the  iron  storm  passes 
over.  It  was  but  for  a  moment.  The  general  gave  the 
word,  "  Rise  up  !  Advance  !  "  and  wild  cheers  rung  out  from 
those  brave  lines,  wilder  even  than  their  fatal  fire  within  a 
hundred  yards  ;  and  the  pipes  sounded  the  martial  pibroch, 
heard  so  often  as  earth's  latest  music  by  dying  men.  The 
men  sprung  up  the  hill  covered  by  the  smoke  of  their  crush- 
ing volley,  almost  with  the  speed  of  their  own  bullets  ;  over 
and  through  all  obstacles,  the  gleaming  bayonets  advanced  ; 
and  then  followed  those  moments  of  personal  struggle,  not 
often  protracted,  when  the  Mahratta  learned,  too  late  for 
ife,  the  power  of  the  Northern  arm.  The  position  was  theirs. 
All  that  stood  between  them  and  the  guns  fled  the  field  or 
was  cut  down.  General  Havelock  was  with  his  men. 
Excited  by  the  scene,  some  letter-writers  say  he  exclaimed, 
"  Well  done,  Seventy-eighth.  You  shall  be  my  own  regiment. 
Another  charge  like  that  will  win  the  day." 

XLVII.    KING   HENRY'S   REBUKE  TO  THE  PRINCE. 

Prince.     I  never  thought  to  hear  you  speak  again. 

King.        Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that  thought : 
I  stay  too  long  by  thee,  I  weary  thee. 
Dost  thou  so  hunger  for  my  empty  chair, 
That  thou  wilt  needs  invest  thee  with  mine  honors 
Before  thy  hour  be  ripe  ?     O,  foolish  youth  ! 
Thou  seek'st  the  greatness  that  will  overwhelm  thee. 
Thou  hast  stol'n  that  which,  after  some  few  hours, 
Were  thine  without  offence  ;  and  at  my  death 


KING    HENRY'S    REBUKE    TO    THE    PRINCE.  225 

Thou  hast  seal'd  upon  my  expectation  : 
Thy  life  did  manifest  thou  lovedst  me  not, 
And  thou  wilt  have  me  die  assured  of  it. 
What !  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 
Then  get  thee  gone,  and  dig  my  grave  thyself ; 
And  bid  the  merry  bells  ring  to  thine  ear, 
That  thou  art  crowned,  not  that  I  am  dead. 
Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse 
Be  drops  of  balm  to  sanctify  thy  head  : 
Only  compound  me  with  forgotten  dust ; 
Give  that  which  gave  thee  life  unto  the  worms. 
Pluck  down  my  officers,  break  my  decrees  ; 
For  now  a  time  is  come  tc  mock  at  form  : 
Harry  the  Fifth  is  crown'd  :  —  up  vanity  ! 
Down,  royal  state  !  all  you  sage  counsellors,  hence  ! 
And  to  the  English  Court  assemble  now, 
From  every  region,  apes  of  idleness  ! 
Have  you  a  ruffian  that  will  swear,  drink,  dance, 
Revel  the  night,  rob,  murder,  and  commit 
The  oldest  sins  the  newest  kind  of  ways  ? 
Be  happy,  he  will  trouble  you  no  more  ; 
England  shall  give  him  office,  honor,  might ; 
For  the  Fifth  Harry  from  curb'd  license  plucks 
The  muzzle  of  restraint,  and  the  wild  dog 
Shall  flesh  his  tooth  in  every  innocent. 
O,  my  poor  kingdom,  sick  with  civil  blows  ! 
When  that  my  care  could  not  withhold  thy  riots, 
What  wilt  thou  do  when  riot  is  thy  care  ? 
O,  thou  wilt  be  a  wilderness  again, 
Peopled  with  wolves,  thy  old  inhabitants  ! 
Prince.     O,  pardon  me,  my  liege  !  but  for  my  tears, 
The  moist  impediments  unto  my  speech, 
I  had  forestall'd  this  dear  and  deep  rebuke, 
Ere  you  with  grief  had  spoke,  and  I  had  heard 
The  course  of  it  so  far.     There  is  your  crown  ; 


226  SELECTIONS. 

And  He  that  wears  the  crown  immortally 

Long  guard  it  yours  ! 

Coming  to  look  on  you,  thinking  you  dead,  — 

And  dead  almost,  my  liege,  to  think  you  were, — 

I  spake  unto  the  crown  as  having  sense, 

And  thus  upbraided  it :   The  care  on  thee  depending 

Hath  fed  on  the  body  of  my  father ; 

Therefore,  thou,  best  of  gold,  art  worst  of  gold: 

Other,  less  fine  in  carat,  is  more  precious, 

Preserving  life  in  medicine  portable  ; 

Thus,  my  most  royal  liege, 

Accusing  it,  I  put  it  on  my  head, 

To  try  with  it  —  as  with  an  enemy 

That  had  before  my  face  murder'd  my  father  — 

But,  if  it  did  infect  my  blood  with  joy, 

Or  swell  my  thoughts  with  any  strain  of  pride, 

Let  God  forever  keep  it  from  my  head. 

XLVIII.    HERVE  RIEL.  —  Robert  Browning. 

Part  I. 

I. 

On  the  sea  and  at  the  Hogue,  sixteen  hundred  ninety-two, 

Did  the  English  fight  the  French  —  woe  to  France  ! 
And,  the  thirty-first  of  May,  helter-skelter  through  the  blue, 
Like  a  crowd  of  frightened  porpoises  a  shoal  of  sharks  pursue, 
Came  crowding  ship  on  ship  to  St.  Malo  on  the  Ranee, 
With  the  English  fleet  in  view. 

II. 

'Twas  the  squadron  that  escaped,  with  the  victor  in  full  chase. 
First  and  foremost  of  the  drove,  in  his  great  ship,  Damfreville  ; 
Close  on  him  fled,  great  and  small, 
Twenty-two  good  ships  in  all ; 
And  they  signalled  to  the  place, 
"  Help  the  winners  of  a  race  ! 
Get  us  guidance,  give  us  harbor,  take  us  quick — or,  quicker  still, 


HERVfi   RIEL.  227 

III. 

Then  the  pilots  of  the  place  put  out  brisk  and  leaped  on  board  ; 
"  Why,  what  hope  or  chance  have  ships  like  these  to  pass  ? " 
laughed  they : 
"Rocks  to  starboard,  rocks  to  port,  all  the  passage  scarred  and 

scored, 
Shall  the  '  Formidable  '  here,  with  her  twelve  and  eighty  guns, 

Think  to  make  the  river-mouth  by  the  single  narrow  way, 
Trust  to  enter  where  't  is  ticklish  for  a  craft  of  twenty  tons, 
And  with  flow  at  fall  beside  ? 
Now  't  is  slackest  ebb  of  tide. 
Reach  the  mooring?     Rather  say, 
While  rock  stands  or  water  runs, 
Not  a  ship  will  leave  the  bay  !" 

IV. 

Then  was  called  a  council  straight ; 
Brief  and  bitter  the  debate  ; 
"  Here  's  the   English  at  our  heels ;  would   you  have  them  take 

in  tow 
All  that's  left  us  of  the  fleet,  linked  together  stern  and  bow, 
For  a  prize  to  Plymouth  Sound  ?  — 
Better  run  the  ships  aground  ! " 

(Ended  Damfreville  his  speech,) 
"  Not  a  minute  more  to  wait  ! 
Let  the  captains  all  and  each 
Shove  ashore,  then  blow  up,  burn  the  vessels  on  the  beach  ! 
France  must  undergo  her  fate. 

v. 

"  Give  the  word  !  "  —  But  no  such  word 
Was  ever  spoke  or  heard  ; 
For  up  stuod,  for  out  stepped,  for  in  struck  amid  all  these  — 
A  captain  ?     A  lieutenant  ?     A  mate  —  first,  second,  third  ? 
No  such  man  of  mark,  and  meet 
With  his  betters  to  compete? 

But  asimple  Iireton  sailor  pressed  by  Tourville  for  the  fleet 

A  poor  coasting  pilot  he,  Hervd  Riel,  the  Croisickese. 


228  SELECTIONS. 


VI. 


And  "  What  mockery  or  malice  have  we  here  ?''  cries  Hervd  Riel : 
"Are  you   mad,    you    Malouins?     Are   you  cowards,   fools,  or 
rogues  ? 
Talk  to  me  of  rocks  and  shoals,  mc  who  took  the  soundings,  tell 
On  my  fingers  every  bank,  every  shallow,  every  swell, 

'Twixt  the  offing  here  and  Greve,  where  the  river  disembogues? 
Are  you  bought  by  English  gold  ?     Is  it  love  the  lying  's  for  ? 
Morn  and  eve,  night  and  day, 
Have  I  piloted  your  bay, 
Entered  free  and  anchored  fast  at  the  foot  of  Solidor. 

Burn  the  fleet,  and  ruin  France  ?     That  were  worse  than  fifty 

Hogues ! 
Sirs,  they  know  I   speak  the  truth  !     Sirs,  believe  me    there  's 
a  way! 

VII. 

"Only  let  me  lead  the  line, 
Have  the  biggest  ship  to  steer, 
Get  this  '  Formidable  '  clear, 
Make  the  others  follow  mine, 
And  I  lead  them  most  and  least  by  a  passage  I  know  well. 
Right  to  Solidor,  past  Greve, 

And  there  lay  them  safe  and  sound  ; 
And  if  one  ship  misbehave  — 

Keel  so  much  as  grate  the  ground  — 
Why  I  've  nothing  but  my  life ;  here  's  my  head !  "  cries  Herve 
Riel. 

VIII. 

Not  a  minute  more  to  wait ! 

"  Steer  us  in,  then,  small  and  great ! 
Take  the  helm,  lead  the  line,  save  the  squadron  ! "  cried  its  chief. 

"  Captains,  give  the  sailor  place  ! 
He  is  admiral,  in  brief." 

Still  the  north  wind,  by  God's  grace  ; 

See  the  noble  fellow's  face 

As  the  big  ship,  with  a  bound, 

Clears  the  entry  like  a  hound, 
Keeps   the   passage   as    its    inch    of     way  were    the  wide    seas 


HERVE   KIEL.  229 


IX. 

See,  safe  through  shoal  and  rock, 
How  they  follow  in  a  flock  ! 
Not  a  ship  that  misbehaves,  not  a  keel  that  grates  the  ground, 
Not  a  spar  that  comes  to  grief  ! 
The  peril,  see,  is  past, 
All  are  harbored  to  the  last, 
And  just  as  Hervd  Riel  hollas,  "  Anchor  !  "  —  sure  as  fate, 
Up  the  English  come,  too  late. 


Part  II. 


So  the  storm  subsides  to  calm ; 

They  see  the  green  trees  wave 

On  the  heights  o'erlooking  Greve  ; 
Hearts  that  bled  are  stanched  with  balm. 
"Just  our  rapture  to  enhance, 

Let  the  English  rake  the  bay, 
Gnash  their  teeth  and  glare  askance 

As  they  cannonade  away  ! 
'Neath  rampired  Solidor  pleasant  riding  on  the  Ranee  !  " 
Now  hope  succeeds  despair  on  each  captain's  countenance  I 

11. 

Outburst  all  with  one  accord, 
"This  is  Paradise  for  hell ! 
Let  France,  let  France's  king, 
Thank  the  man  that  did  the  thing!  " 
What  a  shout,  and  all  one  word, 

"  Hervd  Riel  !  " 
As  he  stepped  in  front  once  more, 
Not  a  symptom  of  surprise 
In  the  frank  blue  Breton  eyes  — 
Just  the  same  man  as  before. 


23O  SELECTIONS. 


III. 

Then  said  Damfreville :  "My  friend, 
I  must  speak  out  at  the  end, 

Though  I  find  the  speaking  hard; 
Praise  is  deeper  than  the  lips  ; 
You  have  saved  the  king  his  ships, 

You  must  name  your  own  reward. 
Faith,  our  sun  was  near  eclipse  ! 
Demand  whate'er  you  will, 
France  remains  your  debtor  still. 
Ask  to  heart's  content,  and  have  !  or  my  name  's  not  Damfreville." 


IV. 

Then  a  beam  of  fun  outbroke 
On  the  bearded  mouth  that  spoke, 
As  the  honest  heart  laughed  through 
Those  frank  eyes  of  Breton  blue : 
"  Since  I  needs  must  say  my  say, 

Since  on  board  the  duty  's  done, 
And  from  Malo  Roads  to  Croisie  Point,  what  is  it  but  a  run  ?- 
Since  't  is  ask  and  have,  I  may  — 

Since  the  others  go  ashore  — 
Come  !    A  good  whole  holiday  ! 
Leave  to  go  and  see  my  wife,  whom  I  call  the  Belle  Aurore  ! " 

That  he  asked,  and  that  he  got  —  nothing  more. 


Name  and  deed  alike  are  lost ; 
Not  a  pillar  nor  a  post 

In  his  Croisie  keeps  alive  the  feat  as  it  befell; 
Not  a  head  in  white  and  black 
On  a  single  fishing-smack, 
In  memory  of  the  man  but  for  whom  had  gone  to  wrack 
All   that  France  saved   from  the   fight   w  hence  Lngland  bore 
the  bell. 


HERVE   RIEL.  23 1 


VI. 

Go  to  Paris  ;  rank  on  rank 

Search  the  heroes  flung  pell-mell 
On  the  Louvre,  face  and  flank  ; 
You  shall  look  long  enough  ere  you  come  to  Herve  Riel. 
So,  for  better  and  for  worse, 
Herve  Riel,  accept  my  verse  ! 
In  my  verse,  Herve  Riel,  do  thou  once  more 
Save    the    squadron,   honor    France,  love    thy  wife,   the    Belle 
Aurore ! 


INDEX  TO  SELECTIONS  IN  SHAKESPEARE, 


I.     Hotspur  and  Vernon.    Henry  IV,  Act  IV.,  scene  i,  lines  86- 

136. 
II.    The  Quarrel  of  Brutus  and  Cassius.     Julius  Ccesar,  Act  IV., 
scene  iii,  lines  1-124. 
III.     Hamlet's  Reflections  over  Yorick's  Skull.    Hamlet,  Act.V,  scene 

i,  lines  174-206. 
IV.     Brutus'  Oration.     Julius  Ccesar,  Act  III.,  scene  ii,  lines  12-48. 
V.     Antony's  Oration.     Julius  Ccesar,  Act  III.,  scene  ii,  lines  78- 

236. 
VI.     Hamlet  to  his  Mother.     Hamlet,  Act  III.,  scene  iv,  lines  53-88. 
VII.     Macbeth  anticipating  the  Murder  of  Duncan.     Macbeth,  Act.  I., 

scene  vii,  lines  1-28. 
VIII.     Falstaffs  Description  of  the  Soldiers.     Henry  IV,  Part  I.,  Act 
IV.,  scene  ii,  lines  12-54. 
IX.     Polonius'  Counsel  to  Laertes.    Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  iii,  lines 

56-82. 
X.     Observation  on  Music.     Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V.,  scene  i, 

lines  54-89. 
XI.     York  on  Bolingbroke's  Reception.     King  Richard  II.,  Act  V., 

scene  ii,  lines  8-40. 
XII.     Hotspur  to  the  King.     King  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  I.,  scene  iii, 
lines  29-69. 

XIII.  Cordelia's  Gratitude  to  Kent.     King  Lear,  Act.  IV.,  scene  vii, 

lines  1-99. 

XIV.  Court  Scene.     Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  IV.,  scene  i,  lines  168- 

262. 
XV.     The  Sheperdess'  Welcome.      The  Winter's  Tale,  Act  IV.,  scene 
iv,  lines  73-128  and  136-15 1. 
XVI.     Hamlet's  Grief.     Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  ii,  lines  129-159. 
XVII.     The  Ghost's  Revelation.     Hamlet,  Act  I.,  scene  v,  lines  49-92. 
XVIII.     Hamlet's  Description  of  Man.     Hamlet,  Act  II.,  scene  ii,  lines 
289-304. 
XIX.     Hamlet's  Soliloquy.     Hamlet,  Act  III.,  scene  i,  lines  50-90. 


234 


INDEX    TO   SELECTIONS    IN    SHAKESPEARE. 


XX.     Hamlet  on  his  Hesitancy.     Hamlet,  Act  IV.,  scene   iv,  lines 

31-66. 
Iago  on  Iago.     Othello,  Act  L,  scene  i,  lines  42-66. 
Othello's   Welcome    to  Desdemona.     Othello,  Act  II.,  scene  i, 

lines  179-189. 
Othello's  Resolution.     Othello,  Act  III.,  scene  iii,  lines  175-192. 
Othello's  Reasons  for  the  Murder  of  Desdemona.     Othello,  Act 

V.,  scene  ii,  lines  1-22. 
Othello's  Defence.     Othello,  Act  V.,  scene  ii,  lines  338-355. 
Horatio,  Hamlet,  and  Bernardo.     Hamlet,  Act.  I.,  scene  ii,  lines 

159-212. 
XXVII.     Hotspur's  Anger.    King  Henry  IV.,  Part  I.,  Act  I.,  scene  iii, 

lines  1 18-188. 


XXI. 
XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 
XXVI. 


INDEX  TO  BIBLE  SELECTIONS. 


I.  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount     ....  Matt,  v.,  vi.,  vii. 

II.  Christ's  Testimony  concerning  John      .     .  Malt.  \'\. 

III.  Christ  reproves  the  Pharisees Matt,  xxiii.  13-39. 

IV.  Mary's  Hymn  of  Praise Luke  i.  46-55. 

V.  The  Prophecy  of  Zacharias Luke  i.  68-80. 

VI.  The  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son      .     .     .  Luke  xv.  1 1-32. 

VII.  Christ  and  the  Woman  at  Jacob's  Well      .  John  iv. 

VIII.  Paul  on  Mars  Hill Aclsxvn.  22-31. 

IX.  Paul  before  Agrippa Acts  xxvi. 

X.  Exhortations Rom.  xii. 

XI.  Exhortation  to  Faith Heb.  xi. 

XII.  The  Book  with  Seven  Seals Rev.  v. 

XIII.  The  Destruction  of  Babylon Rev.  xix. 

XIV.  Jacob's  Blessing  to  his  Sons Gen.  xlix. 

XV.  The  Song  of  Moses Ex.  xv.  1-21. 

XVI.  The  Ten  Commandments Ex.  xx. 

XVII.  The  Majesty  of  God Deut.  xxxiii. 

XVIII.  David's   Lamentation  of  Saul  and   Jona- 
than        2  Sam.  i.  17-27. 

XIX.  The  Frailty  of  Life Job  xiv. 

XX.  The  Mighty  Works  of  God Job  xxxviii. 

XXI.  The  Reward  of  Righteousness   ....  Psalm  i. 

XXII.  David's  Trust  in  God Psalm  xviii. 

XXIII.  David's  Confidence  in  God's  Favor  .     .     .  Psalm  xxiii. 

XXIV.  God's  Lordship  in  the  World Psalm  xxiv. 

XXV.  The  Majesty  of  God Psalm  1.  1— 15. 

XXVI.  The  Frailty  of  Human  Life Psalm  xc. 

XXVII.  Exhortation  to  fear  God Psalm  civ. 

XXVIII.  Psalm  of  Prayer  and  Praise Psalm  cxix. 

XXIX.  David  praise th  God  for  his  Providence      .  Psalm  cxxxix.  1-18 

XXX.  Comfort  to  Jerusalem Isaiah  xl. 

XXXI.  Christ's  Suffering Isaiah  Yin. 

XXXII.  The  Call  to  Faith Isaiah  lv. 


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The  Telephone.  An  account  of  the  phenomena  of  Electricity,  Magna- 
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Lessons  on  Manners.    By  Edith  E.  Wiggin. 

Water  Analysis.  A  Handbook  for  Water-Drinkers.  By  G.L.Aus- 
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Handbook  of  Light  Gymnastics.  By  Lucy  B.Hunt,  instructor  in 
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Pupils  in  public  schools,  on  declamation  days,  are  limited  to  five  minutes 
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